


First Meeting at the Last Show (of the Year)

by crushing83



Series: Spins and Pirouettes [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Equestrian, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Demisexuality, M/M, Modern AU, Pre-Slash, english Thranduil, equestrian AU, horse show, maybe demisexual character, mentions of Bard's wife, mentions of other Tolkien characters, reining, the bardlings, western Bard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-20 00:23:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3629745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard and his children travel to Edoras to compete at the last horse show of the season. He meets Thranduil. An interesting offer is made. Friendships begin in brief conversations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day before the show. Preparing for the trip and managing daily responsibilities. A glimpse into Bard's life with his children.

"C'mon, Thor," Bard muttered under his breath as he turned. As his horse took his first step forward, so did the man, and they walked slowly but companionably until they reached the wash stall at the far end of the barn. 

The gelding stepped onto the rubber mat and if Bard had to guess, he would have said the horse was giving him a very unimpressed glare. His lips twitched. He knew horses didn't emote the way people did, but Thor was expressive and never had a problem demonstrating exactly when he was less than thrilled. 

Bard tied the rope lead in a quick safety knot, through a ring at the front of the stall, and then he gathered his buckets, bottles, and sponges. Thor gave a snort; Bard chuckled and patted his flank. 

"Gotta do this now, so you don't look so scruffy," the man murmured as if his mount would understand. "Lessons tonight, then we're heading out tomorrow morning," he continued as he worked at unbraiding Thor's tail. The horse shifted his weight. Bard leaned against him. "You'll survive. It's just a bit of water. At least it'll be warm." 

He spared a glance at the faucet. He had plans for his own facility, if he were ever to come into money, and they included a simple system that would allow the sun to heat water in a hose spread out over the roof. At Esgaroth Farms, however, money was no object to his employer and there was rarely a shortage of running hot water as a large heater worked in the utility room, year-round. 

None of his students were competing that weekend, apart from the two oldest of his three children, so there was no reason to suspect there would be anything less than nearly a full tank of hot water. No one but him had horses that needed bathing the day before leaving for a competition, and he knew Sigrid, his eldest, would probably bathe their other horse while he was teaching, before clipping both horses' ears, muzzles, and legs. 

Bard finger-combed Thor's tail and then tied the long mass of coarse hair into one large knot to keep it off of the ground. He patted his horse's hind end and walked to the faucets and the hose. 

"Easy, Thor," he murmured. 

He turned on the water and aimed a gentle spray of lukewarm water at the horse's legs before bringing it up to his chest and then to his neck. He talked quietly the whole time, as was his habit; he knew some would think he was being ridiculous, but ever since he'd been a boy, he'd found peace in sharing his thoughts with horses. 

He turned the water to Thor's back and then over his hip. He repeated the process on his horse's far side. After a good soaking came a thorough scrubbing with shampoo and another rinsing, before he turned his attention to Thor's long mane and longer tail. 

By the time he'd rubbed conditioner into both lengths of hair, he was nearly as soaked as his horse, but he felt better than he had earlier in the day. He'd unburdened some concerns to Thor's nearly-silent presence and was able to distract himself with some labour that was not too taxing. 

At the sound of heavy boots in the aisle, though, some tension crept back into his shoulders. 

"There you are, Bard." 

"Hullo, Alfrid," he said without turning to face the farm's manager. "Is there something that needs doing?"

"Just wanted to stop in and see how you are."

Bard rolled his eyes, glad the gesture couldn't be seen by his immediate supervisor. He sorely disliked the man---as well as the farm's owner, to be honest. 

He did his best to hide his displeasure with his employers, though. It was difficult to find employment that offered lodging for his family as well as board for his horses, in addition to some salary. A rich (and still greedy) man looking to expand into the equestrian domain had been his best offer and he did his best to make it work. Apart from his employers, there was much to enjoy about his day-to-day life, after all. 

"I'm fine. I'll have him put away before my first group arrives," he said quietly. 

"Any chance any of them have changed their minds about competing this weekend?" 

Bard shook his head. "No," he replied. He turned his head and looked at his boss, briefly. "It's too late in the season, and school has the kids preparing for midterms." 

"That's a shame."

"They're not ready for the full circuit yet."

"Funny how only your children are ready."

Bard snorted. "Bain and Sigrid have been riding nearly as long as they've been alive," he reminded Alfrid. "And they're showing under your shingle." 

"Yes, but---"

"Next year, two will probably be ready to show the full circuit," Bard assured the other man as he returned to combing out Thor's tail. "And you'll be able to charge them thoroughly for my services, I'm sure." 

"Proper thing," Alfrid agreed in an oily voice. 

Bard snorted quietly but said nothing. 

"One of the mothers was asking about you, you know," Alfrid commented after a long pause. 

"I hope you told her I have excellent credentials."

Alfrid chuckled. "I could not comment on the credentials she was inquiring about, since they're of a more _personal_ nature," he said in a leering tone of voice. 

Bard sighed. It wouldn't be the first time a parent of one of his students grew interested in him, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. He was learning how to sidestep that interest politely and move past it, and it wasn't so much a bother as it was flattery, as much as it boggled him. Alfrid's belief that such a relationship would benefit the farm, however, turned that flattery bitter and made him feel used even if the attraction were not returned. 

"Those credentials are not for sale, Alfrid," Bard replied, barely succeeding in keeping a growl from his voice. "You'd do well to remember that."

"Aw, I didn't mean anything bad by it," the farm manager said in response. "Just, you know, all work and no play---" he broke off as his cell phone chirped. "Keep it in mind, will you?"

Bard waved him off with one hand. Alfrid grunted and turned away to answer his phone. 

Before returning to Thor's tail, he patted his horse's rump and quietly said, "Ridiculous. Thinks he can pair me off and charge a stud fee, doesn't he?"  Bard snorted at the idea, though it made him very uncomfortable. "I don't understand why they think I'm a catch. Creaky knees, a scruffy face, and a bad tan are attractive, who knew?"

Thor gave a little swish of his tail as he shifted his weight. Bard took the movement to mean his horse was taking his side and felt his heart lighten. 

He finished with Thor's tail and tucked the braid into a tube of waterproof fabric that was fastened through one of the links in his braid with a tie of strings at the top. Then, he went to his mane and braided that as best as he could. He knew Sigrid would do a better job, but he still wanted to keep its length safe from being dirtied or snagged on something. 

"There," he said quietly. He glanced at his watch. "And with an hour to spare." He patted Thor's shoulder. "Let's get you back to your stall."

Bard pulled the rope lead free of its knot and backed Thor into the aisle before turning him towards his stall. He heard voices as he passed the viewing room and office, not just that of Alfrid, so he assumed one or two of his students had arrived. 

He kept silent, though, as he wanted to go past as unnoticed as possible. He hoped, after taking notice of the time, that he could head to his cottage and check on his kids. 

After tucking Thor into his stall and removing his halter, he tossed a flake of hay into the corner under his feed bucket and closed the door. Then, after giving a quick look around, he ducked out through a side door and made the trek around the outside of the main stables to end up on the path to the small home that had once been the property's caretaker's house. 

His children had been sitting at the kitchen table, pouring over what looked like their homework, but when he came in they stopped and greeted him happily, loudly. 

Bard grinned and caught his youngest, Tilda, as she rushed to him. He swung her up into his arms and pressed a kiss to her temple. Before releasing her, he took a moment to inhale the comforting scent of her hair---full of fresh air, grass, the sweetness of her skin, and the warmth of their home. She reminded him the most of his late wife, but even the pain in his heart at his loss could not devalue the wriggling bundle in his arms. Tilda's outlook on life, the way she threw herself openly and lovingly into everything she chose to do... she warmed his wounded heart thoroughly. 

When he set Tilda back into her chair, he found himself facing his eldest, Sigrid. She, too, was like her mother in ways, but her sense of responsibility came from burdens in their life after the accident and that was the mantle she chose to wear most of the time. He regretted that fact but was also grateful for it. 

"Thor's clean and ready to be clipped," he said before hugging her. He kissed her cheek. "But if you can't get to him in time, I can do it tomorrow."

"I'll get them both done," she promised. She hugged him again, quickly, and then stepped back. "The trailer's packed. And we packed our bags, too." 

He didn't know what else to say so he kissed her forehead. "What would I do without you three?" he asked. He stepped away from Sigrid and to his son, Bain, so he could squeeze his son's shoulders. "Thank you, guys. You're a big help." 

"I helped, too, Da!" Tilda exclaimed. 

"I know, and I bet you were great."

"I made sure we'll have snacks!" she told him. "And I put our pillows and stuff in the truck." 

Bard grinned. "Thanks, darling," he said sincerely. "Did you make sure to put our books on tape in the truck, too?"

"Well, of course," she said in such a serious tone that Bard almost laughed. 

"There's some supper if you have time," Sigrid told him quietly. 

"I honestly don't know what I'd do without you," Bard admitted as he let her push him into the other empty chair. 

Bain snorted. "Starve?"

Bard chuckled and nodded in agreement with his son, "Probably. Your mother always said I was a menace in the kitchen."

"What's that mean?" Tilda asked. 

"That I'd be more likely to burn the place down than cook something decent enough to eat," he told her. 

She giggled at the idea. Bard was glad for the sound. He never shied away from including the memory of their mother in their lives and he wouldn't want to; they needed to know her and he was the only one who could ensure she was a part of their lives. He was relieved mentions of her no longer brought tears straight away---smiles and laughter were a much better way to honour her. 

Sigrid put a bowl of chili and a plate of buttered bread in front of him. He grabbed a spoon from the cup of cutlery in the centre of the table and dug into his meal. 

"Delicious, love," he assured her when she returned with a glass of iced tea for him. "Thank you." 

Sigrid smiled at him. "It was a recipe I wanted to try for a little while," she admitted. "It's different from yours---"

"I noticed," he said with a smirk and a wink. 

"---but I could do it all in the slow cooker, so it didn't take much work." 

"It's perfection," he said after another bite. 

"There's enough for another meal," she added. "I put it in the freezer, so we'll have something when we come home." 

"Good thinking," he agreed. "God knows we'll be too tired to do anything else when we get back." He took another spoonful of the chili into his  mouth, swallowed, and then asked: "You guys have a lot of homework?"

"We're not missing the whole week," Bain reminded him. 

"Yeah, but I know this is a busy time of year, so humour me, why don't you?"

Bain gave an over-exaggerated sigh and shook his head. "Just math. And chemistry. I got my assignments and I'll do them on the drive."

"I'm all caught up," Sigrid assured him. "I have midterms the day after we get back, but I'm not worried."

Bard looked at her. "Are you sure? If you want to stay home and study---"

"All I have is math that first day back. And then I have a weekend to study for the others," she explained. She smiled. "It'll be fine, Dad." 

"You know you can tell me if showing's too much, right?"

Sigrid nodded. "I know. Quit worrying," she said with a smile on her lips. 

"You seem to take care of everything else, worrying's all I've got left to do around here," he teased. 

She smiled more. "Eat," she reminded him. "You've got classes to teach." 

"Yes, dear," he muttered in a teasing and deadpan tone. 

Sigrid grinned and returned to her homework. 

Bard watched them working around him while he gobbled up the last of his meal, feeling his heart both warm and clench at the same time. He loved them so much---for being brave, for taking care of each other when he could not always be there, for taking care of him, for loving him back---but he could not deny a part of his heart was missing the love of a partner---and missing that love made him feel guilty that the love of his children was not all he needed. 

His wife had been his best friend. As children, he and Lily had grown up around horses. Her parents owned a training facility where they bred and trained horses for pleasure and competition; he lived with his parents on a produce farm nearby. They met at school, bonded, and spent most of their time at her home. She taught him to ride, her father taught him to win. And over time, their bond developed so much that the attraction he'd heard his friends mention so many times (and had constantly baffled him) struck him sure and fast after graduation. One night, a year later, she'd admitted to being in love with him for years, and he'd felt brave enough to admit he'd only ever been hopelessly gone on her. 

Their easygoing partnership in riding and training blossomed into a relationship, and then a marriage, and then a family. They worked together at her family's farm, and they lived together in a house down the road. 

They'd been so happy. 

And then a late night drive had changed everything. An overtired driver in a ridiculously overpriced sport-utility vehicle made mincemeat out of their small car. 

Lily died in the crash and Bard had spent almost a whole year trying to keep his young family together while enduring more rehabilitation therapy than he ever wanted to endure again. He'd found he could go back to training and teaching, but Lily's parents had sold their facility while he'd been recovering. 

They'd gifted him with Thor when he'd re-established himself in the horse world, though, and again with Jane (so named by Bain, who'd been reading quite a few comic books at that time and had decided that their Thor needed a Jane, too), when Sigrid turned fourteen. 

But no one since had gifted him with desire or a love like the one he'd shared with Lily. No one since had ever truly inspired attraction in him. He felt arousal, the pure physical need, but no inspiration to find an outlet came from the adults in his life. 

He knew he needed closeness and a foundation for those things to develop. He knew he needed to give those things time and chances to grow. But, his family and his work filled his life as much as they could and he was wary of letting anyone that close to him again...

...especially a divorced or single parent of one of his students. 

At that thought, he shook himself from his brooding and found Sigrid watching him closely. At sixteen, she was much more astute than her brother of fourteen and her sister of seven, and she was much more astute than Bard was entirely comfortable with, if he could honestly admit. She had Lily's perception of mind along with his brashness, so she was often likely to blurt out uncomfortable (to him) truths that he wished she did not understand at her age. 

"Go," she murmured. "I'll be down in a bit to clip Thor and Jane." 

He breathed a nearly silent sigh of relief that she'd chosen to keep whatever she perceived to herself and nodded. 

"Thanks, love," he murmured back. He wiped his face with his napkin, ensuring no remnants were left in the scruff around his mouth. He turned to Bain. "You alright to stay here with Tilda while Sigrid does that?"

"We're gonna watch a movie, Da," Tilda blurted out. "We'll be fine."

Bard smiled. "Nothing with too much violence. Or too much kissing." 

"Yuck," his youngest said with a grimace. 

He chuckled. "Yes, yuck. You all remember that when you're older and trying to give me more grey hair." 

Bain rolled his eyes. "We were going to watch one of the old Disney movies, Dad."

"The puppies!" Tilda exclaimed. 

"Or Robin Hood?" Bain suggested. 

"Okay!" Tilda chirped happily. 

Bard stood and kissed the tops of Sigrid's and Bain's heads before rounding the table and kissing Tilda's head, as well.

"I love you," he said to all of them, "and I'll be back when I'm done teaching." 

Replies of love and good-byes of their own followed him out the door. He looked towards the main barn and the large indoor arena and rolled his shoulders before taking steps in the direction of the large structures. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing something in a modern, equestrian AU in my [second ficlets installation](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3457838), and that inspired this. (It will be different, though.)
> 
> Also, without saying it outright in the story, I imagine Bard competes in an AQHA-esque breed association. Could have been paint horses (or any other of a few breeds), I guess, but I grew up with quarter horses, so I went with what I know better. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evening before the first day of the show. Arriving and settling in. A suggestion has some promise.

They'd pulled out of the yard at Esgaroth Farms at five in the morning; by the end of the day, they were driving onto the show grounds outside of Edoras. They did not usually travel that far---many of the shows of the circuit in which they competed were at least a few hours closer---but there was an open reining competition that had a purse at which Bard did not want to pass a chance, and an open trail competition in which he knew both Sigrid and Bain could stand a chance at placing well. 

It was a larger event, catering to three breed associations, and would draw many people, both spectators and competitors alike. Alfrid allowed them to go because there was a chance their success could bring business from other areas. Bard wanted them to go because it would show his children other disciplines like jumping and dressage; they were not his areas of expertise, but they were still beautiful to watch and he was appreciative of the skill required. 

Luckily, when he parked by the barn, Tilda was still drowsy from her nap. So, with a kiss to her cheek, he told her to stay in the truck while they prepared to unload the horses. Sigrid and Bain each filled a wheelbarrow with wood shavings (both container and contents provided by the show grounds), and set off in search of their stalls while Bard took their papers to the registration office to make final payment and receive their ring numbers. 

When he returned to the truck, Sigrid was lowering the ramp of the trailer and Bain was standing at the open side door, near Thor's head. His daughter gave him a stern glare as he approached; confused, Bard went to Bain for clarity. 

"You rented large box stalls," was all his son said when prompted. 

"It's a five-day event," Bard explained quietly. "The horses will need their rest. I thought it was a good idea." 

Bain shrugged. When Sigrid came to them, he repeated his explanation and was given an eye roll as her response. 

"What?" Bard asked. 

"At their price? Times two?" Sigrid demanded in a quiet hiss. "Dad, regular box stalls would have---"

"Hey," he quickly interjected, "you need to stop worrying about money. We're fine. We've been fine for a while now. And if I get some of the purse money---"

"If we get some of the trail money, we'll put it towards the stalls," Sigrid decided. 

Bard shook his head. "No, you'll put it towards a night out with friends or something else fun. Fun, only." He looked from daughter to son. "Do I make myself clear?"

Sigrid sighed in frustration. Bain looked torn between amusement and confusion. Bard smiled and shook his head slightly. 

"I appreciate the concern, love," he murmured to his daughter. "I did plan for this, though."

"You promise?" 

"I've never lied to you before, have I?" 

She smiled and shook her head. "No."

"And I won't. Ever," he promised. "Now, let's get these two unloaded before Lady Jane decides to make a break for it." 

They worked quickly to unload both horses. Bard led Thor while Sigrid took Jane, and Bain led the way to their stalls. They were in a seemingly quiet area, assuming most people had already arrived. 

"You two get them unwrapped and I'll go get their water buckets," Bard said. "I'll bring Tilda back with me if she's awake, and maybe she'll roll the wraps back up for you while I unload some of our gear." 

He left them in the stalls with the horses and hurried to his truck. Amazingly, Tilda was still asleep, so he grabbed the water buckets in one hand and a bale of hay in the other and made his way back to the stalls, walking more carefully under his unbalanced load. 

He put the bale of hay against the wall opposite their stalls and went to a nearby faucet to fill the buckets. 

The horses drank while Bain freed two flakes of hay for them and then they munched contentedly while Bard and his children returned to the truck and trailer to grab more of their things to take back to the stalls. 

They worked for a while before Tilda unlocked and opened the cab door. Bard smiled as she sleepily peered out at them. He abandoned the saddle he was going to carry in favour of walking over to her and gathering her up in his arms. He was rewarded with a drowsy hug in return. 

"Are Thor and Jane settled?" 

"They have hay and water, and we're going to bring them the rest of their stuff now," he told her. "Did you have a good nap?" 

She nodded against his shoulder. "Had a dream about horses jumping fences. With the riders that have those nice coats," she murmured. 

"We'll have to watch those classes tomorrow if there's time," he told her. 

"Sounds good, Daddy," she murmured sleepily. 

He grinned. He could usually pinpoint her mood by what she called him. "Da" was for excited, happy, and hurried moods. "Daddy" was for sleepy, sad, or other slower-paced times and feelings. "Dad" was for when she was furious or frustrated. He liked the first two the most, for different reasons, but he couldn't deny there was something a little bit cute about her huffing and puffing and over-stressing her hard letters, like D's, with occasional little head tilts to go along with them. 

"What will I do when you're too big to carry?" he mused aloud. 

"I'll never be too big to carry," she insisted. 

He chuckled and kissed her temple. "I certainly hope not," he murmured in agreement. "I'm going to put you down, though, so I can carry my saddle."

Tilda voiced only a little complaint as she slid to the ground. She stayed close as he picked up his tack, either because she was still sleepy or just wary of the new surroundings, and followed Bard back to the stalls. She peeked into the stalls to see that their horses were alright and then settled herself on a storage box one of them had brought back and reached for the unwound leg wraps. 

"You alright to do that?" he asked his youngest child. 

She smiled and nodded and continued untangling the long, coloured bandages before she started rolling them back up in the proper fashion. 

He saw Sigrid coming with a bridle rack and a couple of their working bridles. Bain was behind her, lugging saddle pads and his saddle. 

"You two let them settle a bit and then you might as well tack them up," he said quietly. "I'm going to park the trailer and I'll check out the arena on my way back." 

They nodded and continued on their way back to their stalls. Bard headed off with purpose; he waved to a few people he recognised on his way to the truck and made a mental note to catch up with some of them when he had time. 

Once in his vehicle, he looked around, saw where people had parked their larger rigs and decided to put his own on the side of the lot closest to the stables, where there would be room for a smaller trailer like his own. 

Used to the routine of the evening before the first show day, he went through the motions of unhitching his truck from the trailer and after he was sure the wheels were secure against the blocks he took a few more things they'd need that night and tossed them into the back of the truck. He locked the storage compartment of the trailer and hopped back into the driver's seat. 

Finding a parking spot for the truck wasn't difficult. He left it in plain view of the stable doors they'd be using most often, but away from the routes travelled by horses and handlers, and set off for the main show arena. 

Bard enjoyed the walk, using it to centre his thoughts and prepare for the work ahead of him. An acquaintance, someone he knew from previous encounters as someone who didn't compete anymore but always came to shows (often with an apprentice or two), greeted him with a wave and called out words. 

"I wondered if we'd be seeing you tonight," the old man said as he leaned on his walking stick. 

Bard smiled. "We just got here," he said in reply. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Greyhame," he added, once he remembered the man's name. He extended his hand and the older man shook it. "Did you bring any students to compete this time?"

"It's Gandalf, lad, and no, this time I'm here to look at the futurities, see if there's anything that catches my fancy," he explained. He smiled. "Always on the lookout. You know."

"Some bloodlines get better with every match," Bard agreed, "and sometimes there are new surprises." 

"Exactly!" Gandalf exclaimed, smiling. "Are you showing your mare again this year?"

"My daughter is," he said. "I'm only here for the reining this year."

"Well, I hope she's as wonderful to watch as you were in that trail class last year at the Midsummer Fair. I wish I'd recorded it. Never had I seen a more calm and sure partnership," he said. Bard felt his cheeks warm as Gandalf continued, reaching out and patting Bard's arm. "You have skill and patience that I wish I could find to polish in my students." 

"You teach your students well, sir," Bard said, shifting uncomfortably after the man's praise. "They always do admirably under your guidance." 

"Some more than others," Gandalf said with a dismissive shrug. He turned as if he were preparing to depart; then, he turned back and met Bard's eyes with a sharp look. "Would you be willing to travel during the off-season and teach a clinic?"

Bard thought of Alfrid's eagerness to make money, but couldn't say for sure if he'd approve of Bard teaching at another's stable. 

Gandalf must have seen the uncertainty in his face, for he smiled a little too knowingly. "Mr. Esgaroth would hate to lose you, but I would try my best to convince him I only mean to lure you away for a week and to his betterment, of course. 

"And obviously, your children would be welcome, too," he continued. "Trail isn't the easiest to teach, it isn't my speciality. And if you would choose to teach reining, instead, well, I would be delighted with that, too. Winter is the best time to try new disciplines. It helps with the monotony of indoor arenas and riding around in circles." 

"That is true," Bard conceded. He smiled. "I can't promise anything right now but that I'll seriously consider your offer." 

"Excellent!" Gandalf replied. "I will get in touch with you when I decide where I will be stationed for the off-season. And, obviously, I hope we'll get a chance to talk later through the show."

Bard nodded. "I look forward to that," he said with a smile. "Have a good night, Gandalf." 

"And you, too, Bard." 

The dark haired man set off for the arena again. Instead of thinking about the show, he was considering Gandalf Greyhame's offer... and the man, himself. 

The man was a bit of a legend in the equine world. He'd had many successes as a young man, won many prizes, and eventually worked as a judge on the same circuit. After his retirement, he chose to travel from facility to facility where he was welcome. He offered his insights in breeding and training in exchange for room and board, worked alongside those he advised, and sometimes brought a student or two along on his travels. There were few places he frequented repeatedly, but Bard knew he tended to favor stables in both Lothlórien and Imladris for the off-season. 

The offer was one he'd never received before. He'd been asked to come teach at stables with no trainers---usually horse owners who kept their horses at private facilities---but the time it would take to travel (and the time it would take away from his daily duties during show season) made it unfeasible for him to manage regular lessons at other locations. A one-time week away would be manageable, especially if it were during the holiday season because his lessons were usually postponed until the new year. It would be a chance to make sound contacts and explore the possibility of maybe one day getting out from under Mr. Esgaroth's thumb. But, it would also be a chance to work with students who were serious about taking on new skills as well as looking for a break in their routine. It would be a break from Bard's own routine. The idea held promise. 

He hoped the idea would bear fruit, he decided as he stepped into the arena and stood at the gate, watching those who were working their horses. 

A few were familiar faces, a few were not. There were nine horse-and-handler teams; two horses were being lunged and the rest were being ridden. Four were under western saddle, three were under english saddle.  It was fairly quiet, for the day before the first of a show, but he figured it was late enough that most people had finished working their horses for the day. 

He waited until there were no horses coming down the long side to the corner of the gate and then he ducked under the barrier and tested the dirt. He'd been to those show grounds before, but not recently, and he was curious about the footing. 

Unlike a lot of show grounds, it wasn't too wet or deep. Bard smiled as he kicked some of it gently against the boards; it seemed light enough, so it was a good mixture of sand and clay, and would help more than hinder Thor's ability to slide. After a few stomps, he decided that the base was decent enough and if they grated it before the reining classes, it should be fine. 

"Does it meet your approval?" 

Bard turned to see an unfamiliar young man dismounting a beautiful dark grey horse and eyeing him with an amused look on his pale face. He grinned sheepishly and nodded. 

"Just wanted to get a feel for it before I bring a horse out," he explained. "Sorry if I was in your way." 

"You weren't," the younger rider said. He smiled. "Enjoy your ride when you return," he added, before running his stirrups up the leathers of his english saddle. 

"Thanks," Bard said. 

He waved when the young man walked past him. He tried to recall if he'd seen the man before, but decided everything from his long blond ponytail to his tall and shiny boots was unfamiliar. 

Then, he chuckled under his breath, and looked around before making his way back to the gate. 

He found his children by the stalls, putting their spurs on their boots. They smiled at him. He smiled back. 

"You alright to ride Thor first?" he asked his son. 

"Yep." 

Bard smiled. "I'll come out and watch you guys. When you're done, I'll hop on for a bit." 

"Can I come, Da?" Tilda asked. 

"If you can carry my spurs, you can," he told her. He grinned. "They're too heavy and I'm too old." 

Tilda rolled her eyes. "You're silly," she muttered. 

He chuckled. "I know, darling. I'm sorry you're stuck with silly, old me." 

Sigrid snorted and nudged him. "That's our father you're trash-talking." 

He nudged her back. "So?" 

"So, you might find yourself being tickled to death if you keep it up," she warned him with a little wave of her fingers. 

Bard schooled his happy expression into one of (mock-)seriousness. "Duly noted, boss," he commented. 

She snorted. "Goof." 

"Guilty as charged." 

Bain handed her Jane's bridle and then he watched them slip the bits into the horses' mouths (with a bit more resistance on Thor's part than on Jane's, as per usual). He opened their doors and held Tilda off to the side as they led the horses out of the stalls and into the aisle. 

"C'mon, milady," Bard said to his youngest. "Let's go watch your brother and sister ride." 

She grinned and walked off with him, back towards the arena. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second day of the show. Tilda is smitten with the pretty jumpers. Bard competes in the first round of a reining competition.

By the middle of the second day, Bard was beginning to remember why preferred weekend events over the longer competitions. He was used to being up at four and working a full day, but a show was not a normal full day, and after two days the notion that he had three more before a long drive back to Esgaroth Farms was more exhausting than he cared to admit. 

The idea of curling up with Tilda for her midday nap (because being up at four and for a full day was too much for her, even at her energy level) in the cab of the truck was becoming more appealing with every day. 

"Dad?" Sigrid spoke, shaking him from his thoughts. "You want this?" 

He looked up from the bit he was changing from one bridle to another, saw the cup of takeaway coffee in his daughter's hand, and bit back an appreciative groan. 

"Yes, please, love," he replied, smiling. "Just set it on the tack box and I'll---"

"Let's just trade," she suggested. 

Before he could protest, she'd already taken the the empty headstall from his shoulder and the screwdriver from his hand. After a bit more juggling, he was holding the coffee and she had the tack. 

"You aren't the parent---or the coach---you know." 

She leveled a stern look his way. "No, but I am the rider. And this is for Jane. So, let me do it." 

"Alright," he agreed. 

"Are you ready for your class?" 

He nodded after a sip of coffee. "I've still got plenty of time." 

He had at least two hours. Reining shows (like other event-specific competitions) were different, obviously, but the reining classes were always in the evening at regular breed-specific shows. Even at this combined event, it seemed they would be held at the very end, after the hunter jumper classes but before the speed events like barrel racing and pole bending. At larger competitions, it seemed to be that the contests that had the potential to draw a crowd of outside spectators were always at the end of the day---when people were off of work and looking for something recreational or entertaining. 

At smaller shows, he sometimes wondered if it was that way instead so if there were no entrants, people could simply pack up and go home earlier than expected. 

The open reining class with the alluring purse of prize money would have them compete in two rounds, on that night and on the fourth night, before the prizes were announced. He would be showing in the open reining class for their breed association most every night, anyway, and while part of him was concerned he'd get the patterns mixed up the rest of him was looking forward to doing what he loved best a little bit longer. Thor was still fairly young, but soon, he would be Bain's mount alone, and Bard wanted to enjoy the time he had left with his horse. 

"I put your chaps---"

"I saw, thanks, love," he replied. "I'll put them on after I change my shirt. And find my hat." 

Sigrid smiled and motioned towards their neatly stacked pile of tack and feed along the wall. His hatbox was sitting on top of her saddle. Bard chuckled. 

"You're like magic," he mused, 

"You taught me well." 

"I must have," he murmured. 

He drank some more of his coffee and watched as she settled the headstall with its new bit and reins on a hook they'd twisted into the wall. She took the other bit and stored it in the box they used for spurs and bits.  Then she turned and looked at Thor in his stall. 

The gelding was clean. His mane had been brushed, but loosely braided so it didn't tangle while he rested. His tail, too, had been given the same treatment. Bain had left him like that after his novice youth level trail class that day---and to their luck, Thor had not decided to lie down. 

"Tilda's with Bain at the truck, but she's been asking if you're going to take her to watch the jumpers," she said as she turned back to look at him. "I can tack him up and bring him out to the warm-up ring before those classes are finished." 

"Why aren't you off shirking your duties with the rest of the kids from your classes?" 

She smiled. "Because I like being helpful." 

"Who raised you?" 

She snorted. "Seriously, Dad?" 

He grinned. "Couldn't have been me." 

"Nope. I was raised by well-behaved, magical elves, behind your back." 

"That must be it," he agreed, still smiling. 

"Go get cleaned up," she insisted after a roll of her eyes. "And then take Tilda to watch the pretty jumpers. I'll meet you outside the warm-up gate before the end of the last jumping class." 

"Yes, ma'am," he drawled. 

"And don't forget to neatly tie your hair back. I saw that scruffy bun under your hat brim last night." 

Bard rolled his eyes. "Honestly, who is the parent here?" he grumbled. 

Sigrid simply smiled and motioned for him to get moving. 

He knew better than to argue with her. He took his coffee and the plastic-covered shirt hanging from another hook and headed off in search of the restrooms. Once inside one of the small, grimy rooms located at the canteen, he washed his face and hands before changing from his long-sleeved and grey Henley to the crisp button-up shirt of dark plum. He found the black tie tucked in the pocket and decided to keep it there until necessary. It wasn't a formal tie as would accompany a suit, but a square silk tie that would be folded and tucked under his collar before being tied at the collar's gap; having that last button fastened bothered him, though, and he preferred to wait until the last minute before donning the tie. 

Once he was tucked in and his belt buckle refastened, he was about to leave but remembered Sigrid's words about his hair. He sighed and pulled his unruly, wavy hair from its elastic, and tried to smooth his hair into a more suitable ponytail. 

And after that and a final look over, he declared himself fit for battle. He grabbed his coffee and dirty shirt and left the bathroom. 

By the time he returned, Sigrid had taken his chaps off their hanger and had moved onto pulling his spurs out of the box he kept them in when he wasn't wearing them. He dropped his shirt on his hatbox and started putting on his chaps. She folded his shirt, tucked it in a seemingly clean plastic bag, and then took his black felt cowboy hat out of its container and checked it over. 

"It'll need a reshaping before next season," she commented. 

"It always does," he agreed after he folded the ends of his chaps up so they wouldn't drag and put his spurs on. He took the hat from her and put it on his head. After an adjustment, he smiled at her. "How do I look?" 

She eyed him speculatively and brushed her fingers once over his left shoulder before tucking a stray curl behind his ear. 

"You'll do." 

He chuckled and squeezed her upper arm affectionately. "Thanks, love. I'll grab Tilda and go see the 'pretty jumpers.'" 

Luckily, even by the time he'd wrangled his youngest daughter into the arena, there were still plenty of seats to choose from. He guided her to the third row in the corner near the main gate, so she could see plenty and so he could duck out quickly when it was time. Tilda grinned excitedly as the riders finished walking the course and she was practically vibrating when the first entrant was called into the ring. 

Bard enjoyed watching her more than the competitors, to be honest, and through that pleasure his heart ached a bit because he wished he'd be able to teach her how to jump when she was steady enough on a horse's back. Jane could probably handle low jumps, but she wouldn't be skilled at it. He wouldn't be skilled enough to teach her much about jumping. They would be learning at the same time, and he wanted her to have solid instruction on a sure mount---if it was something she really wanted to learn. 

"Oh, Daddy," Tilda breathed. 

He saw her transfixed expression and glanced out into the arena to see who had grabbed her attention. 

He did a double-take when he saw the grey horse and then the young man who had teased him a little when he'd been testing the arena footing. 

It had taken him a few seconds to realise who the rider was, because his long hair was seemingly gone and his sharp facial features were shadowed by the brim of a helmet and masked by its harness. 

Curious, Bard leaned forward and watched attentively. 

The man rode with a firm seat and strong legs. He had light hands; they barely moved to check and guide his horse. Bard didn't know much about jumping, but he knew good riding, and he appreciated what he saw. They worked as a unit, giving and taking from each other as they went over every jump in the course cleanly without any hesitate or refusal.* 

When he nodded to the judge and left the ring, Bard clapped along with everyone else. 

"And that was Legolas Doriath on Eryn Lasgalen's Spirit," the announcer's voice said, catching Bard's attention mostly because he was curious about the rider. 

All but ignoring the announcer's introduction of the next rider, he made a mental note to remember the man's name. He hoped that if he ran into Gandalf again, he could inquire as to who the equestrian had trained under, so he might talk to them about finding someone close to home who could teach Tilda when she was ready and interested. 

They watched everyone else in the class, but in Bard's opinion, the class had been won by the man named Legolas. He felt validated when the judge agreed---even though there was scoring involved that took some of the subjectivity out of the equation---and clapped with everyone else when he accepted the blue ribbon after everyone else received their ribbons. 

He stayed with Tilda until it was time to go warm up Thor for his own class, and then he guided her out---with the assurance that she could return if Sigrid would come back with her---to the outdoor practice ring. 

Sigrid was standing off to the side, outside the fenced-in area, holding onto Thor and rubbing the palm of her hand over the flat plane between his eyes. Bard smiled at her. She smiled back. 

"How was it?"

"Oh wow, Sigrid!" Tilda exclaimed. "Some of them jump soooo high! And they're so pretty. I like the smart jackets and tight pants and tall boots. And there was this one rider who was like magic! He made it look so fun and easy and like floating---but really, really fast! Like flying!" 

Bard chuckled. "It was quite something." 

Sigrid grinned. "I'll take her back." 

"Yay!" 

Bard squeezed Tilda's shoulder gently. "Shh, darling," he reminded her. "Thor and Jane are the only ones who are used to you, remember?" 

Tilda blushed and ducked her head. "Oops. Sorry, Daddy." 

"Don't worry," he assured her. "I just don't want you accidentally spooking someone and getting knocked down or trampled." 

She nodded. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "You guys are going to cheer for me, right?" he asked, teasing a little---but also hoping they'd be there watching and rooting for him. 

"Dad's being silly again, Tilda," Sigrid commented. She looked at him. "Tie." 

He sighed. He reluctantly fished his tie out of his pocket and put it on, tying it blind but allowing his oldest child to straighten it out for him. 

"There. Now, hop up and I'll fix your chaps." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

He checked his saddle's cinch, lowered his stirrup, put the reins over Thor's neck, and climbed up onto his back. Sigrid gave him a second to settle before she unrolled his chaps; she spent a few minutes smoothing them out over his boots and making sure his spurs weren't tangled in the fringes before stepping back and smiling. 

"What's the pattern?" 

"Number ten**," he said, smiling. 

"Your favourite." 

His smile stretched into a grin. "Thor's favourite, too," he said. He shrugged. "No matter how we score, it's going to be a good ride." 

"Well, I'm betting you ice cream after that you're going to get a seventy-two*** or higher," Sigrid declared. 

Bard grinned. "You're on. Go on and let me warm up." 

"Good luck, Da!" Tilda called out as Sigrid started ushering her to the main arena again. 

"Thanks, darling!" 

He watched them leave and then reached out and patted Thor's shoulder. "Let's go, pal," he murmured. "Time to warm up." 

Upon entering the warm up area, he saw a few people he recognised. They greeted each other casually and pleasantly; the mood of the reiners was pretty mellow, and Bard liked that no one was there with them from another discipline to disrupt the peace. 

He guided Thor through some exercises to loosen up his shoulders to help with spins, before focusing on exercises designed for Thor's back end. He didn't do any of the elements of the pattern except for one sliding stop, because he wanted to make sure Thor stayed loose and ready but without being able to anticipate too early which pattern they'd be doing. 

There were only so many patterns, and Thor had done them all. It was best to keep him guessing as long as possible. 

"Looks good," his son said from the rail as he loped past him. 

Bard smiled. The exhaustion of the show didn't seem so bad when he was riding his horse, getting ready to go into the ring, to ride for himself and his kids. 

He eased Thor back into a jog and continued his limbering exercises. The next time he passed Bain, his son gave him a grin which he returned. He kept an eye and an ear trained on the main arena, but he knew when the jumping was over because a grounds crew went in and dismantled the course and then a tractor went in to drag the arena. 

"You should go get a seat with your sisters," Bard said when he rode out of the warm-up ring and headed for his son. 

Bain nodded. "I will." He reached out and petted Thor's shoulder. "Just... good luck, Dad." 

"Thanks, son," Bard said in reply. He reached out and ruffled Bard's hair. "It'll be tough competition, but a good show for the crowd," he added. "Fun for us, too." 

Bain smiled. "Looks like the usual people are here." 

"Yep." 

"You nervous?" his son asked. 

Bard's butterflies were nothing compared to the happiness he felt in the saddle, but they were still there. He looked down at his son and nodded. "Always get a little nervous," he reminded him. "It keeps me honest, keeps my head in the game." 

"I'm already nervous about the big trail class," Bain admitted. 

"You're gonna do the best you can," Bard reminded him. "Just keep telling yourself that. That's all I try to do. That's all I ever want you to do." 

Bain nodded, silent as he contemplated his father's words. "C'mon," Bard said quietly. "Walk me to the entryway." 

His son fell into step alongside him and they made their way to where the other reiners were waiting. 

"Hey, Dad?" 

Bard looked away from the adjusting of his reins, preparing for riding one-handed. "Yeah?"

Bain smiled up at him. "Thanks," he said. "And game on." He leveled a serious, fierce look at him. "Seriously, Dad. Game on." 

Bard grinned and nodded. "Game on," he agreed. 

He reached out, tousled his son's hair again, and then joined the pack of reiners. 

A ring steward came by and gave them their order of performance. Bard snagged the third spot and was glad for it, so he wouldn't have to wait around trying to keep himself calm and in the right frame of mind. Twelve riders were competing in the open event, and he knew he wouldn't have liked it much if he were going last. 

The group of competitors continued their casual, quiet conversations as they waited. Bard caught up with the familiar, friendly faces from Erebor, and introduced himself to one of their acquaintances from outside of Bree. Most of the group was male, but a third of them were female, and Bard was glad for the increase in their numbers. He knew Sigrid wanted to eventually try her hand at reining competitively and, while he knew she'd probably wipe the floor with any of the guys in her age category, he wanted her to feel comfortable and like she belonged in that sport. 

The first entrant rode a score of sixty-eight and five tenths. 

The second entrant rode a score of seventy. 

And then Bard was waiting in the chute outside of the open gate, listening to the announcer call his and Thor's names, along with their number (two-twenty-three). 

He watched as the judge, sitting behind the middle marker on the left side of the arena, turned a page in his binder and looked up. 

Bard took a breathe, straightened his shoulders, and eased Thor into a walk. Three steps later, he cued Thor into a lope. Two strides after that, he was entering the arena down the center and picking up speed. 

He'd been leaning forward slightly, telling Thor to go faster, but after he passed the centre marker, he shifted back and gave the cues for a stop. 

Thor _slid_. 

And the crowd cheered. 

Moustache twitching, he brought Thor back, reversing him steadily until he felt his hind end was in line with the centre marker and the judge. 

He stopped and took a minute. Thor was already coiling forward; Bard could feel his weight shifting, preparing for what was coming next. He gave his right side a light bump with the side of his foot. Thor's ears flicked back briefly. 

Sitting back in his left hip and using his reins to guide Thor forward and to the right, Bard started their spins in that direction. The second and third were blurs, the fourth was almost jarring as he stopped cleanly at the end. 

He tidied the reins with a shake of his hand and shifted his weight back to his centre. Thor shifted, too. 

Then, he shifted to the right and pulled his reins-holding (left) hand forward and to the left. With a press of his heel against Thor's side, they took off in their spins to the left. 

One. 

Two. 

Three. He caught the sound of Tilda's excited cheer. 

Four. 

And a quarter. Very clean, with only a sight overage. 

Sigrid whooped. 

He shook out the reins and let his eyes settle first on the judge and then on the path he would be taking next. 

He eased Thor forward a step before pressing him into a lope. By the time he was turning to the right to make a circle, he was shifting forward slightly and letting his reins hand creep up Thor's neck. His horse responded and picked up speed. 

The first two circles to the right were large and fast. The third, though, was small and slow, so before he reached the place where he'd done the spins, he was easing back and settling his weight deeper into the saddle. Thor slowed but he huffed as Bard guided him in a smaller loop. 

A quick but well-planned shift of weight and a squeeze of both legs in different places along Thor's sides ensured a smooth lead change at the same place he'd changed speeds and then Bard guided his mount in the first left-handed circle, one that was small and slow. 

After that circle, he let Thor speed up for two large and fast circles. The crowd clapped and hollered. Thor snorted. Bard chuckled. 

He eased back slightly as they reached the centre line again and Thor responded by slowing slightly. He shifted and urged and Thor changed leads again. 

The large, fast (but not at full speed) circle to the right didn't get closed. Instead, Bard rode down the side of the arena, urging Thor to go faster. Once they'd past the centre marker, Bard began to shift back for a stop. 

Thor slid into a stop and Bard pressed him into a quick, lunging pivot towards the wall to reverse and go back down the arena the way they'd come. 

They rounded the short side and like the last time, Bard pushed Thor to go faster before sliding to a stop and doing another rollback. 

Thor leapt off into a fast lope, and they went back around the far end again. 

The pattern ended with one more sliding stop along the right side of the arena, after the centre marker. 

Bard let Thor settle. He settled himself. 

He heard cheers and applause coming from all around, but none were as enthusiastic as those from his children. He smiled and turned towards the judge. 

The woman in a navy blazer and cream cowboy hat was scribbling in her binder. She looked up and nodded. The ring steward gestured him over and he knew then that they were doing a bit check. 

He guided Thor over across the arena and stopped twenty feet in front of the judge. He dismounted, walked them a bit closer, and then carefully eased the bridle off his horse's head long enough for the judge to look at the simple curb bit with a small port and thank him. Bard wasted no time slipping the bit back in Thor's mouth and the headstall back over his ears. 

"Thanks, ma'am," he said with a polite smile. He hopped back in the saddle. A moment later he was jogging away from the centre of the ring and towards the exit.

"And that was entry number two-twenty-three: Thor's Flashy Hammer with Bard Bowman riding. Their score for this round is seventy-three point five." 

Bard heard his kids voice their approval---loudly---and he grinned. The instant he was out of the ring, he leaned down to pat Thor's neck vigorously.

Someone from the pack of reiners gave him a thumbs up. He waved them off with a laugh and a quick thank you. 

As he settled in to wait with the others, he tried to school his features into an expression of calm, but his moustache kept twitching as a smile kept trying to break out on his face. 

He did better than he thought he would. 

And he'd be getting ice cream later, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I imagine Thranduil and Legolas being involved in a discipline(s)-oriented association, like the CEF or USEF, more than a breed association. Maybe that's because any friends I'd had who competed in jumping or dressage tended to go to CEF events instead of breed shows. They probably do compete under a breed association, too, though. Maybe. (I picture a warmer-blooded horse than a quarter horse, but maybe if they were appendix (QH/TB), it'd work out. IDK.)
> 
> **The pattern used for Bard's reining class is [NRHA pattern #10](http://imageek.biz/images/29331-nrha-pattern-10.gif). Visual/video examples of the pattern being performed/executed can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=od8lj_FOkh8) and [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6P8IL-hgHn4) and [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wfrc-ybKz3k).
> 
> ***The average score for a reining go is around a 70. There can be lower, there can be higher. Points are taken off or added based on how each rider performs the elements in the pattern. 
> 
> Also, I used Doriath as Legolas' and Thranduil's last name. I used a play on Thranduil's father's name before, but it felt clunky this time. I know a handful of fics have used Doriath, so I went with that instead. Hopefully no one takes offense to my doing that. I didn't mean it in an unsavory, copycat way. It is intended to pay homage to those stories, and honestly, just feels like a better (easier to say) last name. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning before the show starts. Bard rides. Bain is nervous.

The third day was busier for his children than it was for him, since the open trail contest was scheduled for just after lunch. They would both have that in addition to their other classes, but they never had too many to deal with, anyway. 

Many youth and novice youth competitors showed from western, starting with the confirmation and showmanship classes, to english, for hunt seat equitation and hunter under saddle, to western again, for trail, western pleasure, and western horsemanship. Those entrants were hauling for honours like performance registers of merit, superior horse awards, and annual high point all-round trophies. 

Bard didn't see anything wrong with that strategy---but unless his children wanted it, he wouldn't be putting that kind of pressure on their shoulders. They both had reputations for being good at trail and horsemanship, while Bain also gravitated towards western pleasure and Sigrid also favoured showmanship. They often won a year-end high point award in one of their chosen disciplines. It was enough for Bard, as long as it was enough for his children. So far, they never showed signs of wishing they could compete in more. He was a little relieved, but mostly just glad they were doing what they wanted to do without taking on so much so they burn out and get sick of showing---or of riding, altogether. 

He rode both Thor and Jane that morning a couple of hours before the show was scheduled to start, giving his kids a bit of a break. He suggested they go to the canteen for breakfast, asking them to buy him a bagel or something before they came back to the stables. 

Jane was first, because Sigrid was showing her in showmanship in the morning and would need more time to get her ready than Bain and Bard would need to get Thor ready for his day's contests. He put her through her paces and decided to work a bit on getting her to wait---to not rush through the bit, or to rush on ahead---as she loped down the long sides of the main arena. 

Other people were riding and lunging, no imaginable pattern in the traffic except the rules that kept those going faster and needing to pass on the inside and that kept those going in the majority direction on the outside track. 

Jane wasn't entirely pleased with Bard's decision to keep checking her back---no matter if it were for a few strides or only one. He smiled a bit, enjoying the challenge and the change from Thor's personality to hers. 

After a few exercises in which he'd cue her to lope off, but only allow her lope for a handful of strides before stopping her and performing either a few steps of reversing or a small, slow turn on the hindquarters (or anything else little he could think of that might get her to shift her weight back into her hips and wait), he was beginning to feel as if he were being watched. There was an itch developing between his shoulder blades, one he often associated with observation.

Assuming it was his daughter, coming to check on their progress, he ignored it and kept working with Jane. 

When he lapped the arena twice, the feeling persisted but he couldn't find Sigrid anywhere. He shrugged it off because he didn't feel threatened, but he still wondered if anyone were watching him---or if his still-sleepy brain were just making things up. 

Either way, it didn't stop him from finishing with Jane's workout and heading out of the arena. 

By the time he'd returned with Thor, some of the riders from before had left but there were even more newcomers in their place. 

He waved to Gandalf as he entered the arena on Thor's back. He saw the man sitting in the stands with someone he didn't recognise, someone who was wearing a baseball cap that shadowed his features from view. The older man waved back and Bard turned his attention away from the stands and towards the traffic patterns so he could enter and start Thor's morning workout. 

Riding Thor always felt a little like coming home and there was a lot that Bard didn't have to think about when he was working with the gelding. So many responses were automatic, built in after so much practice. 

They went through an easy warm-up as they walked around the arena, cornering Thor's head one way and then the other, before doing the same with his hips. 

When he was sure he was limber, he clucked his tongue, squeezed his legs, and pushed Thor into a jog. 

He kept pushing, though, even going as far to lightly press the rowels of his spurs into Thor's sides to get the horse to extend the two-beat gait into a trot. 

And then he started posting, ensuring that he was rising and sitting with Thor's outside shoulder. 

A strong, extended trot was good for Thor. It helped him move with his hind end driving him, which alllowed him to round his back up and lighten the load on his shoulders---which would help him carry his head lower than if he were pulling himself forward with his front end and letting his back legs lose drive and momentum. 

Bard kept his hands as quiet as he could, only using them to guide Thor around the corners or in and out of traffic. He wanted Thor to loosen up, get away from the patterns he'd been doing between reining, trail, and horsemanship, and just focus on moving as fluidly as he could. 

Six times around the ring at a strong trot and Bard sat down, settled, and slowed his mount back to a slow jog. He could feel the improvement---less dragging, less stiffness---and he gave Thor a bit longer rein as a reward. 

He jogged around the short end and then eased him into a lope. They loped up the long side of the arena before he turned Thor into the centre of the arena. 

He asked for one step forward and then a stop. 

And then he asked for one step to the side. And another stop. 

He kept that up for a few minutes, asking for a small maneuver (a reverse step, a quarter pivot on the hind end, a quarter pivot on the front end, and so on) and then a stop. Bain was worried about his trail performance; Bard thought what he was doing would shift Thor's mind away from assuming whatever was next and keep it on his rider's cues. He made a mental note to walk Bain through the same exercise when he made to warm-up before the trail competition. 

Once he was finished, he decided to stand and watch some of the activity around him. Two riders that competed against Sigrid the day before were riding together. Someone he recognised as being a member of one of the other breed associations was lunging a yearling. A coach was riding with a few of his adult students, barking orders as they loped in circles around him. A couple other riders were like him, on their own. 

A pair of english riders came into the arena, side by side, and they stopped along the rail near the place where Gandalf had been sitting. The man in the baseball cap stood up---he was very tall, Bard could see his head over the horse's withers---and started talking with both of them. 

Another glance around the rails told him his son had come in. He raised a hand in greeting; Bain replied by holding up a cup of coffee and a brown paper bag. 

Bard urged Thor forward, and he met his son in the corner opposite the one the english riders were occupying. 

"How is he?" Bain asked. 

"Fine. You wanna get on?" he asked. "Do you have your spurs?"

"Will you stay?" 

He nodded. "Yep. There's something I was going to walk you through later, but if you want, we can try it now." 

Bain gave him a nervous nod and Bard smiled. "Hop over," he insisted. 

He dismounted as Bain climbed over the boards. He shortened the stirrups, from memory, and waited for Bain to swing himself up into the saddle. 

He released Thor's reins and stepped back to grab the coffee and bag from where Bain left them on the rail. He tucked the bag---which felt like its contents was a pastry of some kind---into his jacket's pocket and took a sip of the coffee. 

"Thanks for this," he said quietly. He smiled at his son. "You alright?"

"Dad, you should be in this class, not me," he mumbled. He looked more stricken than he had the night before. 

"Hey," Bard said gently, "you know what to do. Trail is something you've got a great feel for." 

"But it's an open class! Trainers are going to be in it! I'm just a kid---"

Bard reached up and put his hand on his son's knee. "Listen to me," he murmured in what he hoped was a low, gentling tone of voice. "I wouldn't have suggested you enter if I didn't think you could hold your own. I know it's scary to go up a level. I freaked out when I gave up my amateur card, Bain. I was really scared. To compete against guys who do this for a living---"

"You do this for a living, Dad."

"I didn't always, son, and I was new to doing that, too," he reminded him. "So I understand. And if you want to scratch and just do youth trail, I will support you one hundred percent." 

"You will?" 

Bard nodded. "Of course I will," he replied. "I only ask that you think about one thing before you make that decision."

"What's that?" 

"Can you do the obstacles?" he asked. 

"Well... probably." 

Bard grinned. "Yeah, there's a chance they're throwing out a lot of rules because it's a challenge open to all three associations, but the basic elements?"

"I know how to do 'em." 

"You definitely do," he agreed. 

Bain worried his lower lip with his teeth. "I don't want to make a fool of myself. Or embarrass you." 

Bard wished he could hug his son, but their positions made it impossible. "There's nothing you could do to embarrass me, Bain," he said solemnly. "I will be proud of you and everything you do... always. You got that?"

His son nodded. "You think I should do it?"

"Only if you want to. Either way, I'm in your corner."

"You'll coach me?"

Bard smiled. "Until the day you tell me to back off and find someone new to nag." 

Bain smiled a bit back. "Alright." 

"You up for a bit of coaching now?" 

"Sure," he agreed. 

Bard took a quick sip of his coffee and then motioned to the centre of the ring. "Walk with me to the middle," he said, "and we'll start in there." 

Bain adjusted his grip on the reins and set off at a collected walk. Bard followed, staying at Thor's shoulder, and when they were off the track and away from other people, they all stopped walking. 

"I gave him a pretty good workout, but what I'd been working on was getting him to wait," Bard said quietly. "You know how sometimes he thinks he knows what's going to happen next and he tries to be helpful?"

His son gave him a little chuckle and a nod. 

"So, what I want you to do is just stay in this immediate area, so we're not in anyone's way," he instructed. "And what you need to do is just take a step, and stop. And then another step... and stop. And then maybe sidestep once or twice in one direction and stop. A quarter turn and stop. Back up a bit and---"

"Stop?" Bain finished. 

Bard smiled. "Yeah. Just like when we're practicing a box or a gate when we're at home," he continued. "Remember to pick your hands up when you do something and put them down when you're stopping.

"And when you're ready to get moving again," he added, reaching up with his free hand to gently poke Bain's hip, "I want to see you keep your seat quiet. You're getting a lot better with that, but when you're nervous, you still get a bit fidgety." 

Bain frowned. "I try not to---"

"Hey, I get it," Bard interrupted quietly. "How about you try taking a deep breath first, before you do anything? It only takes a few seconds and can give you the time you need to figure out what to do." 

He watched his son's brows draw together as he scrunched his face and thought about what he was saying. Then, he nodded. 

"You ready to try?" Bard asked. 

Bain nodded. 

Bard smiled at him and waved his hand out to the side. "Alright. Let's do this. Do you want me to tell you what thing to do between stops?" 

"Okay." 

He glanced around, and then focused back on Bain. "Alright. First, just take a couple steps forward." 

Bain obeyed, squeezing his calves into Thor's sides to get him to move. Then, he dropped his hands down and mumbled a quiet 'whoa.'

"Sit deep and heavy in the saddle," Bard reminded him, "and ease your legs off him." 

Bain nodded. 

"Now sidepass to the right. Three steps, nice and slow." 

Bain and Thor moved away from him laterally. Bard smiled when they stopped; Bain had just dropped his hand and relaxed, and Thor halted. 

"There, just like that," Bard praised him. "Why don't you try a quarter turn on the haunches, to the left?" 

Bain opened his right leg slightly, brought his left left more firmly against Thor's side, and tipped his hands forward and to the right. Thor pivoted around his right hind hoof until Bain lifted away his left leg and straightened his hands. 

He gave his son a grin. "And now, how about a turn on the forehand to the left?" 

After that, Bard walked closer to him. "How does it feel?"

"I can feel him wanting to... to just do stuff."

"I know. He anticipates," Bard agreed. "And some of that is probably him trying to help. You feel a little less sure to him, probably. And he's a bit of a know-it-all. You can make him wait, Bain. He'll listen if you make yourself clear." 

Bain swallowed and nodded. Bard smiled. "C'mon, let's go again," he suggested. "I have a bit of time before I have to check on Sigrid." 

"Yeah?" 

Bard glanced at his watch. The show started at eight, but it wasn't even seven yet. The previous day, it took about forty minutes after the start of the first class before Sigrid's class was in the ring. He looked at his son and nodded. 

"Yep. Plenty of time." 

They worked together for another twenty minutes. By that point, the tension seemed to have drained a bit from Bain's posture, and Bard decided to stop before they overdid it. 

"Okay. That's it," Bard told him. "End on a good note." 

Bain nodded and dismounted. He took his reins down and started off for the end of the arena with the gate. Bard followed, watching the two of them closely---Bain mostly---for any further sign of distress. Upon seeing none, he hurried his pace so he was walking alongside his son. He put his hand on Bain's shoulder and squeezed affectionately. 

"Good morning, Bard!" 

Bard looked up to see Gandalf without his cap-clad companion. The older gentleman was leaning on the railing. He smiled and waved. 

"You're up early, Mr. Greyhame," he said with a grin. 

"The coffee tastes better at this time of day." 

Bard laughed. "It's pretty good, I can't lie." He guided Bain, who guided Thor, towards the spot in the corner where Gandalf was standing. 

The older man smiled. "And this is your son, I take it?"

"Yes," Bard said, barely resisting the urge to puff his chest out. "I don't know if you two have met formally, but yes, this is my son, Bain. Bain, this is Mr. Greyhame---"

"You, young man, better call me Gandalf. Your father has trouble remembering my first name," the man told Bain. 

Bain grinned. "Yes, sir. It's nice to meet you." 

"It's nice to meet you, too," Gandalf replied. "I was watching you out there. I suppose your father taught you how to ride, didn't he?" 

"He did..." 

"You've got the same quiet hands," Gandalf commented. "Nice and steady. None of that fast grabbing and pulling. Makes you look calm and sure. Like you know what you're doing." 

Bain blinked. "Really?" he asked with a hopeful smile.

"Definitely, my boy," Gandalf assured him. 

Bard could have hugged the man. In a few words, he'd praised Bain, reminded him of the lesson, and given him the assurances he'd been seeking to calm his nerves. 

"Thank you, sir." 

"None of that. Call me Gandalf."

"Yes, sir." 

Gandalf huffed, but in a good-natured way. "Just like your father, I see," he commented, smiling. "Well, I'll let you two get back to the stables, but it was nice meeting you Bain, and good luck with your classes today."

"Thank you, si---I mean, Gandalf."

Bard smiled. When Bain struck off for the gate, he lingered and smiled in thanks at the older man, who winked in response. Then, he set off for the gate and his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am 99% certain that Thranduil will be in the next chapter. Thank you for bearing with me!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still the morning of the third day of the show. Bard helps Sigrid get ready. Thranduil stops by for a visit.

After Bain, came Sigrid. She was confident, she knew she trained enough to be a decent exhibitor, but there were always moments when she jittered and worried. 

Bard took her to look at the showmanship* pattern once it was posted. It was pretty simple, as far as patterns were concerned, but they both knew that meant it would be made trickier by some other means. 

"The judge'll probably be standing in front of you. Or behind you," Bard said quietly, as they looked at the sheet of paper the ring steward had tacked up outside the main arena. "So you pick a landmark and use that as a guide to make sure you're straight so you can keep Jane straight."

Sigrid nodded. 

Bard squeezed her shoulders. "You know what to do," he murmured. "But if you want to practice, we can go somewhere." 

She turned and looked at him. "I'm okay. I know how to do it." She smiled. "Thanks for looking at the pattern with me, Dad." 

Bard put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. "You're going to be great," he murmured. "Let's go finish getting Jane buffed and puffed." 

"She just needs to have her hooves polished and that shiny stuff sprayed on," she said. "Oh, and her face goop. She needs that, too." 

He guided her away from the pattern and back towards the stable. "And her tail," he added. "I'll take care of that stuff if you want to go get changed." 

"Really?"

Bard snorted. "I do know how to groom a horse, love."

"Well, yeah, but Bain and Tilda are off watching---"

"I can handle it without an assistant. Stop worrying and go start getting ready." 

She smiled at him and slipped out from under his arm. "I'll be back in a bit, then," she said. 

Bard watched her walk off. He gave a little snort and a shake of his head, amused by her concern that he couldn't prep a horse for showmanship. He had taught her how to do it, after all, and while he hadn't done it by himself in a long time, he knew he hadn't forgotten what was required. 

No one was around their stalls, as predicted, but many people were in the barn's aisles, putting shine sprays, polishes, and buffing cloths to good use in preparation for the confirmation and showmanship classes. 

He made sure Jane's show halter was clean and hanging nearby. Then he went into the horse's stall to survey what needed to be done.

"Alright, Lady Jane, let's get this show on the road," he murmured. 

He took her out of her stall and clipped her to the temporary crossties he'd installed after the first morning there. Then, he ran a soft-bristled brush over her coat to make sure no bits of sawdust or hay were stuck to her. He knew Sigrid had given her a thorough grooming before they went to look at the pattern, though, so he didn't do too much more than that before he brought out the silicone-based spray and a clean towel. 

As he was spraying and buffing, he noticed a man approaching. 

He turned to offer him a welcoming smile. The man who smiled back at him looked nervous---and for some reason two patches of color appeared over his high cheekbones. 

"Good morning," Bard said quietly. 

"Hi." 

Bard wasn't sure what else to say, so he turned and focused on Jane for a minute; however, his focus wasn't exactly strong, and he kept glancing over at his visitor. 

He was tall---taller than Bard, but not gangly or awkward. He had musculature and width that suggested strength. He was wearing a puffy vest over a hooded sweater and other layers, and his breeches were tucked into tall and well-worn, but also well-polished, riding boots. And his long blond hair was braided in a long plait that hung over his shoulder. 

His hair and striking facial features seemed familiar. He wondered if the man was related to the younger man he'd encountered in the arena. They were similar, somehow, though he couldn't tell for sure. 

"I guess you're not getting ready for halter or showmanship this morning," he said as he finished with spraying Jane's coat. 

"I... oh, no. We don't usually compete in those sorts of classes," the stranger replied. "Is this for halter?"

"Showmanship," Bard told him. "My daughter competes it."

"You taught her, too?" 

Bard nodded. 

The man smiled a bit. "I was watching you this morning, with your son," he explained. His cheeks burned even brighter. "Well, I wasn't there watching you specifically. I was there, and saw you."

"Yeah? I wasn't paying much attention to anyone but my son---oh, you were with Gandalf," he said as he took in the man's appearance and tried to place it at the main arena earlier that morning. "You two friends?" 

The man grimaced. "Something like that." 

"He's quite the character." 

"Yes, he is." 

Bard chuckled. It sounded like there was a story (or two) behind their relationship, whatever it was; since he didn't know either of them, he decided to keep his question to himself. 

"So, you like hanging out around strangers, or just observing morning show rituals?" Bard asked instead, hoping he sounded teasing instead of interrogatory. 

The man chuckled. "Something like that," he said. He put his hands in the pockets of his vest. "Actually, I was just passing through to get to our stalls, and I saw you. I wanted to stop and say that I enjoyed your reining performance last night." 

Bard grinned. He ducked into the box of grooming supplies and pulled out the hoof polish. 

"Thanks," he said. "It was fun." He paused. "Not a lot of hunter jumpers stick around for the reining classes." 

The man shrugged. "It's like dressage. I like patterns."

"Me, too," Bard admitted. "Western pleasure always seemed a bit boring to me." 

"Gandalf said you excel at trail, as well."

"Excel is stretching it. But, I like it and seem to do reasonably well at it." 

He crouched down and started applying the black hoof polish to Jane's back right foot. He made sure the applicator was soaked and painted a band around the top of the hoof, letting the paint wash down the surface. After doing that twice, he smoothed the applicator over the rest of the foot, lightly, to make sure the coat was even and streak-free. 

"Gandalf rarely says things he doesn't mean. Do you always have such trouble accepting a compliment?"

Bard chuckled. "Probably, yeah." 

He moved onto the right front foot. After he finished that, he stood up and looked at the man. "Are you showing today?" he asked. 

"No, but my son is. Legolas---"

"Oh! We watched him last night. He did great. My youngest thought he and his horse were pretty amazing," Bard jumped in. "I don't know much about jumping, but I thought he had great hands. He's a quiet rider, real nice to watch."

The man smiled. "I enjoy watching him ride, as well." 

"Do you show, too?" Bard asked. 

His smile faded. He shook his head. "No, I'm here in an advisory capacity. I operate a facility in Mirkwood... we brought a few students. Legolas does the riding now."

"Retired already?" 

"Something like that."

Bard nodded and moved onto Jane's left hooves. 

"I think I'd miss it, but I can imagine there won't be much time for me to show once Tilda---my youngest---starts," Bard mused as he worked. He winced and added: "Or a horse, probably."

Before the other man could say anything, he spoke again: "Speaking of my youngest, if she were more interested in english than western, would I be able to pick your brain some day about lessons? Maybe there's an instructor closer to us that you'd recommend?"

"You suspect she'll be interested in jumping? Your other children---"

"Aren't still oohing and awwing about the pretty jumpers," Bard said with a grin. "After watching your son ride, I thought if I ever learn who his coach is, I'd ask them. Just in case." 

The tall blond smiled a bit. "Then, I will think about it."

"Thanks."

Bard finished painting her fourth hoof and straightened up. He put the polish away. 

"You should have a groom to do these things."

Bard chuckled. "Usually my children help. But I started showing without them, I remember how to groom." 

"Esgaroth Farms doesn't have grooms who could travel with you?"

"Maybe if I had more students with me, we'd work something out," Bard said, not wanting to discuss the truth of his position with someone he didn't know very well. "When it's just me and my kids, though, we do okay." 

The man shrugged. Bard smiled. "Besides, it's kind of peaceful, doing stuff like this."

"Oh, please."

Bard laughed. "What? There's nothing left about this work you find peace in?" 

"This isn't coaching. This is grooming."

Despite what seemed to be protests, Bard watched as the man picked up a brush and went back to Jane's tail. He smothered a laugh, shook his head, and went in search of the disposable razor (for her muzzle stubble) and the face gel. 

They worked in a rather companionable silence until Jane was polished and coiffed and put into her show halter. Bard kept her in the crossties, though, so she couldn't get messy again. 

"Well, thank you, Mr. Doriath." 

"Thranduil." 

Bard offered a hand for shaking. "Nice to meet you. I'm Bard Bowman." 

"I know," Thranduil said. He shook Bard's hand. The reiner watched as his cheeks turned a little pink again. "Nice to meet you, too."

Sigrid came upon them shortly after that exchange. She saw them standing together, looking into each other's face, and a silly grin stretched her lips. 

"Hey, Dad."

Thranduil quickly stepped back, putting distance between them. Bard looked from Thranduil to Sigrid and smiled. 

"You look great, love," he commented. 

She did. Her showmanship outfit of black denim, white shirt, tie, and red blazer looked stunning. She looked grown-up and professional, ready to go into the ring and win. 

Sigrid grinned. She put on her cowboy hat---made of beige felt---and used her fingers to feel around for stray hairs. 

"Thanks." 

She glanced from her father to the blond stranger and back to her father again. 

"Oh. Right. Sigrid, this is Thranduil Doriath," he said, gesturing to his acquaintance. "He stopped by---"

"I stopped by to tell your father I really enjoyed his reining performance last night," he interrupted. "Nice to meet you, Sigrid." 

"Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Doriath."

"I should be getting back. After showmanship, hunt seat classes start," he said. He smiled at Bard. "I hope to see you again. Enjoy your morning."

"That'd be good," Bard agreed. "See you later."

Thranduil left them. Sigrid grinned again. 

"What?" Bard asked her. 

"I think he likes you." 

"I like him, too. He seems nice."

"Daaad."

Bard frowned. "What?"

"I think he like-likes you."

"Wait... really? That's what that was about?" He stopped and chuckled. "Well, I guess that explains the blushing," he added in a mumble.

Sigrid rolled her eyes. "You're not serious. You couldn't tell?"

"No. I just thought he was being nice." 

"Oh, Dad."

Bard felt his own face warming up. "It's not like that, Sigrid. Stop poking fun at your old man."

"It would be okay, you know," she said quietly. "It doesn't bother me---at all---if you're attracted to men, too. I just... well, you've been alone ever since Mum---"

"Hey," Bard said quietly. "Thank you for saying that. But don't worry about me. I have you and Bain and Tilda, and I love our life."

"You're lonely. I can see it sometimes." 

Bard shrugged. "It's nothing I can't handle. Nothing you should be concerned with, either." 

"Dad."

He smiled. "I'd hug you if I wouldn't mess up your outfit." 

"Dad, just... just think about it. I don't think I'm wrong, but even if he's just being friendly, you should give it a chance. You could use a friend."

"Oh, could I?"

She smiled. "Yes, you could."

Bard chuckled. "You are trouble."

"And you are oblivious. He likes you."

He shook his head. He wasn't sure what to make of Sigrid's revelation, if it was even the truth. If she'd correctly interpreted Thranduil's motives, then he supposed he was flattered by the attention. Confused, but flattered. If she'd incorrectly interpreted his motives, he hoped Thranduil had come for the reason he'd stated and didn't harbour sneakier intentions. 

Either way, he hoped friendship was being offered. 

"Let's get you out by the arena," he said quietly. 

"Trying to change the subject?"

"Trying to get you to your class on time," he insisted. He smiled. "Now, stop worrying about me and start thinking about that pattern you're going to ace."

Sigrid smiled and nodded. He took Jane off of the crossties and threaded the matching leather leadline's chain through the ring in the left, under Jane's chin, through the ring on the right, and clipped it to the ring on her right cheek. 

"Your faithful and noble steed," he said, presenting her with the lead. 

She grinned. "Thank you, kind sir," she joked back. 

They left the stable, side by side, still smiling. 

The halter classes were just wrapping up, so Bard stood back and watched as Sigrid practiced squaring up Jane's hooves. She could do it in fifteen seconds---not as fast as either of them would have liked, but still very quick. By the time they were calling for Sigrid's class, she was practically vibrating with nervous energy. 

"Knock 'em dead," Bard said quietly as he walked with her to the entrance of the arena. 

"Game on?"

"Game on," he agreed. That phrase had become their family motto---through both adversity and competition, they used it as a rallying cry. "I'm going to be watching. And I'll be out here waiting for you when it's over." 

She nodded. He squeezed her shoulder and then stepped away. He ducked into the seating area of the arena, but didn't take a seat. Instead, he opted to lean on the railing so he could see everything from a better vantage point. 

Sigrid snagged the first position in the line of entrants. Bard was glad; he wanted her to get in and make a good impression, and he knew that waiting to go in would only help her nerves multiply. 

He watched as she walked in at the judge's nod, studying the line she made to see how straight it was. He smiled. She was doing great. 

She stopped in front of the judge, set Jane's feet quickly and quietly, and stepped back into position for inspection. When the judge crossed into her space, she moved smoothly to the other side. When the judge crossed Jane's withers, she moved back to the left side. They continued like that for a few minutes, and then the judge stepped back and nodded. 

Sigrid gave a little nod of acknowledgement and turned. She and Jane trotted off, perfectly in sync. Sigrid gave one look over her shoulder, but she and Jane were still in line so there was nothing to correct. She glanced at the judge again and rounded to the corner on the other side of the entryway, where she lined up to the ring steward's direction. 

Bard grinned. Then he sat down in a seat and watched the other entrants, not as invested in their performances as he was in Sigrid's performance. 

"How'd she do?" Bain asked, no more than fifteen minutes later as he and Tilda came over to join him. 

"She was great," Bard said. "A couple others did well, too. It'll come down to what the judge thinks."

"Like usual."

"Yep," Bard agreed. 

Tilda came over and insinuated herself in her father's lap. He grinned, pressed a kiss to her cheek, and let her settle against him. They watched as the last entrant finished his pattern and then as the judge walked around all of the contestants for one last inspection. 

"You guys want to come with me to the gate?" he asked. 

"Let's wait for her results, first," Tilda decided. "If she wins, I wanna cheer."

Bard squeezed her affectionately. "Sounds good." 

The judge handed his scorecard in to the ring steward and the young woman in the headset made her way over to the announcer's booth. She exchanged the card for a set of ribbons and then went to wait between the competitors and the gate. 

"In fifth place, ring number one-fifty-four...

"In fourth place, ring number forty-two...

"In third place, ring number two-oh-two...

"In second place, ring number two-twenty-four, Sigrid Bowman and Shy Jane Jac.

"In first place..."

It didn't matter to the Bowmans who placed first. They were already up and clapping and cheering. Sigrid accepted her ribbon and they left the seating area to meet her outside the arena. 

"Well done, love," he murmured as he plucked the cowboy hat off of her head. He kissed her cheek and fell into step alongside her. 

"Sigrid! Yay!" Tilda bounced excitedly. 

The teenaged girl smiled. "Thanks, guys." 

"Let's get her put away and you into comfier clothes, and then we'll go get celebratory hot chocolate," Bard decided. 

"Here," Bain offered. "I'll take her, Sigrid. You go change."

"Thanks, Bain." 

She handed him the lead and moved out of his way. She chuckled when Bard plopped her cowboy hat on Tilda's head. She sighed happily when he put his arm around her shoulders for a gentle squeeze. 

"You looked good out there."

"Thanks, Dad." 

"You alright with how you did?" 

She nodded. "Yep. I did my best. It's just one man's opinion. Besides, I won Saturday. Can't win 'em all." 

"I love you, Sigrid."

"Daaaad."

He chuckled. "I can't help it. You work hard, you help out so much... you've got such a level head on your shoulders. I'm so proud of you."

"I'm just a reflection of my parents," she chirped. She picked the hat up off of Tilda's head---much to the younger girl's dismay---and kissed her father's cheek. "I'm gonna go change. I'll see you guys in a bit." 

"Alright."

Once it was just him and Tilda, he scooped her up in his arms and pressed a raspberry to her cheek. She squealed happily.

"I love you, too, Miss Tilda," he told her. 

"I know, Da." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Showmanship, according to the AQHA is a class "designed to judge the showmanship skills of the exhibitors. Judges evaluate the grooming and fitting of the horse, and expertise of the exhibitor in presenting the horse. Each exhibitor is required to perform a pattern designed by the Judge with emphasis on preciseness of pattern and degree of confidence exhibited by the showman." 
> 
> Perfectly clear, huh? It's done on the ground (no riding) and with someone leading a horse, through a pattern and then there may or may not be an "inspection" after that. Or during. I didn't think to base Sigrid's pattern off of one from a video because I'd shown in it enough to be able to cobble a simple pattern together. For video examples of what showmanship can look like (in AQHA and 4H), try these links: [1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m8jATK16XTs), [2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LUmbEZxKqOw), and [3](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OY7-8eZ_pzk). 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The afternoon of the third day of the show. Sigrid and Bain compete in the open trail challenge. Bard meets Legolas (officially) and Elrond.

They'd gone over the pattern, they'd ridden for twenty minutes to warm up their horses, and then they were waiting with the other entrants of the open trail* competition. 

Bard thought he felt more nervous than his children. Since the class wasn't regulated by any of the breed associations, the obstacles were much different than what they'd been expecting. 

(A wooden gate, to be opened with the left hand, to a jog, to a bridge covered in pine branches, to a side pass over bags of compressed sawdust, to a lope, into a modified box and back-through, to a dismount and a trailer load, to a re-mount, to a walk out of the arena.)

He was also a little jealous. He would have loved to try that pattern. 

"Any last tips?" Bain asked. 

He grinned at his children. "Just the most important one: game on."

Bain rolled his eyes. Sigrid laughed. 

"There's nothing in there that you can't handle," he reminded them. "You take your time, you think about every step, and you show the judge how much you love riding these horses. It's all you have to do." 

"Tilda and I are going to go inside now and get good seats," he told them. "Is that---"

Sigrid cut him off. "Yes, it's okay. Go ahead." 

"Game on," he said seriously, but affectionately. 

He patted Bain's knee and tweaked Sigrid's foot, and then guided Tilda towards the arena. 

"I'm nervous, Da."

"Me, too, darling. But, I know they're going to be fine." 

"You think?"

"I know." 

They found seats in the middle, so they could see all of the obstacles. Tilda asked him how to do some of the obstacles, and thinking about that kept him calm and less nervous for his older children. 

"'May I join you?"

Bard looked up and smiled. Thranduil was standing in front of them. He nodded and motioned to the seat next to him. "Of course," he said. "Thranduil, this is my youngest, Tilda. Tilda, you remember the young man we watched jumping on the big grey horse? Legolas? This is his father, Mr. Doriath. We met this morning." 

Tilda's face lit up in recollection. "Oooh. Hi, Mr. Doriath. Do you jump, too?"

He smiled as he took the seat next to Bard. "I used to. Now I teach others."

"You must be an awesome teacher. Legolas did reeeeally good."

"I can't take all the credit. He has a natural gift for riding," Thranduil said. "And what about you? Do you ride?"

She shrugged. "A little. Da says I'm still too small to ride by myself." She smiled. "But sometimes he lets me ride Thor after he does."

"I bet you will be great, just like the rest of your family."

Tilda grinned. Bard chuckled. 

Thranduil turned his attention to Bard. "How are your other children? They're in this, aren't they?"

Bard nodded. "Yep, they're waiting outside. Third and seventh to go in." He glanced at the other man. "They're nervous. But they know what they're doing."

"And how are you holding up?"

The reiner gave a little laugh. "To be honest? I'm a little jealous. I wish I could try the course."

Thranduil smiled. "I remember that feeling. The year I stopped riding... showing, I mean. It took a while to adjust. But, you aren't done."

"Not now, no."

"Oh, the first one's going in!" Tilda whispered excitedly. 

Bard looked up and saw the first entrant. She was about the same age as Bain, but she looked more nervous than he had been that morning. Her horse, a palomino, looked nervous, too. Bard winced inwardly. He knew trail was more difficult when both horse and rider were feeling agitated. 

She did the gate well, though, and only rushed a little up and over the bridge. He thought maybe she'd have an alright go of the course, but then she got to the side pass. 

Her horse clipped one of the bags of sawdust and its hoof tore open the bag. The compressed sawdust exploded...

...and so did the horse. 

"Well, that's that," Thranduil muttered under his breath as the horse spooked.

"She might do alright on the rest of the obstacles," Bard argued quietly.

She didn't. She rushed through the lope, which was supposed to end in a chute made of poles before the box, and ended up jumping the box made of poles before circling back and managing to stop at the right place. 

Bard approved of her making herself finish the course, though, and not letting her horse set demands like escaping the arena. 

He clapped with the others in the audience as she got back on her horse after exiting the trailer, and waited for the ring crew to replace the sawdust bag before the second contestant entered the arena. 

The next person to try their hand at the course was a man from Erebor. Bard knew Balin well enough. He'd helped one of Balin's students find a reining horse at a local sale, once, and they'd been to enough shows together to know a bit about each other's life and work. 

"He's pretty good at trail," Bard commented quietly. 

Thranduil shrugged. "I guess," he commented. "I've had dealings with him and his family a few years ago. I wasn't too impressed with the experience---although, he is the more reasonable of his kin."

Bard chuckled. "I'm afraid to ask what you think of me."

Thranduil grinned. "I don't know you well enough, yet, to have formed an opinion, but don't worry, I'll let you know when I've formed one."

"Something to look forward to." 

Balin got through the course with only a few clunks against the poles of the box and back-through. He struggled a bit to get back on his horse after the trailer, but managed it eventually. 

Bain came into the arena after that. Bard leaned forward and forced himself to take a deep breath. 

He approached the gate slowly. Bard could see him making himself take a few deep breaths. He stopped Thor so he was alongside the gate and then he switched hands on his reins (because he rode left-handed when showing, and he needed his left hand to open the gate), and then he negotiated the obstacle with calm patience. 

He closed the gate, switched rein hands again, and pushed Thor into a jog. He stopped in front of the bridge and leaned forward. Thor wasn't wild about the bridge, Bard could tell, but he carefully made his way over it. 

Bain stopped after the bridge for a moment and took a deep breath. 

He walked to the side pass and negotiated it one step at a time. Thor's feet never strayed too close to the sawdust, and they cleared the obstacle without an explosion. 

They turned and loped off on the correct lead. Bain brought him down through the chute, stopped, and entered the box. He turned one and a half times without knocking any of the poles and then he backed up out of the chute. 

He walked to the trailer, dismounted, and led Thor into it. He hesitated for a few minutes, and then slowly came out again. 

When he got back in the saddle, Bard was grinning ear to ear. He whooped and clapped when Bain left the arena. 

"He did very well," Thranduil commented. 

"He really did," Bard agreed as he settled back in his seat. He let out a deep breath and chuckled. "Oh, I'm so glad that went well." 

"Think you'll relax now?" the taller man asked. 

"I'm relaxed."

Thranduil laughed softly. "You were practically vibrating."

Bard shrugged sheepishly. 

When Legolas came into the seating area, Tilda gasped. Bard bit back his laughter as she watched him approach with a starstruck look in her eyes. 

"Elrond said you were watching trail, but I didn't believe it." 

"Legolas," Thranduil said after rolling his eyes. "I needed a break. Do you know Bard Bowman?"

"We sort of met Friday night," Bard said. They shared a smile. He put a hand on Tilda's head. "This is my daughter, Tilda. She might be your biggest fan."

Legolas grinned and, instead of sitting next to his father, he crouched in front of Tilda. "I didn't know I had any fans," he said. "It is an honour to meet you, Tilda." 

"Oh wow. You were so good last night." 

"Thank you. Do you ride, too?"

"Only a bit. But, when my legs get longer, I'll ride more." 

"It took a while for my legs to grow, too," he said. "If it's alright with your father, do you think you could watch my ride tonight, too? I think you might be my good luck charm." 

Tilda looked at her father with big, round, hopeful eyes. Bard smiled at her. "I think we can manage that," he told her. 

"Oh goodie!" Tilda exclaimed. 

Legolas grinned and stood up. He went to take the seat on the other side of his father. Bard watched them look at each other, as if they were having a silent conversation. A few moments later, the younger man smiled and turned his attention to the next contestant in the arena. 

Bard watched the others in a bit of a blur. It wasn't until Sigrid walked into the arena that he felt his focus return. She looked calmer than he felt, perched on the edge of his seat, elbows on his knees, chin on his hands. 

Sigrid walked slowly, smoothly to the first obstacle. She stopped, adjusted her reins so her left hand would be free, and unlatched the gate. She and Jane moved quietly and slowly until they were through the gate. 

They jogged to the bridge, hesitated to a walk, then made their way through the pine boughs. 

She walked off of the bridge and turned to the side pass. She moved fluidly but slowly until the sawdust bag was at her heel; she settled briefly before moving Jane laterally over the positioned bags. 

She moved off of the sawdust bags, did a turn on the haunches until she was on the right bearing and then she loped off towards the chute made by the parallel poles on the ground. 

She stopped, turned one and a half times---carefully, given the size of the box---and backed down the chute. 

"This is supposed to mimic obstacles you could encounter on an actual trail ride?" Legolas asked quietly. 

"Yes," Thranduil replied. "That is my understanding. Bard?"

"Hmm?"

"Trail is to simulate an actual trail ride?"

He smiled as watched Sigrid walk to the parked trailer. "At one time, yes, probably," he said, never taking his eyes off of his daughter. "It's gotten away from that a bit, but the gist of it is to be able to negotiate obstacles. The back-up could be a trail with thick brush on either side. The gate could be one between two livestock pastures, and so on." 

Sigrid dismounted, took her reins, and guided Jane up onto the trailer. A minute later, they were backing down off of the ramp. Once they were back on the arena's footing, she slipped her reins back around the horse's neck, mounted, and settled. 

She turned her head and saluted the judge with a sight tip of her head. The judge nodded. She urged Jane into a walk and they left the arena. The audience clapped; Bard and Tilda cheered loudly and affectionately. 

"That went well," Thranduil commented quietly. "Both of your children have done admirably. Better than some of the senior competition, from what I can tell." 

Bard grinned. "They're good riders."

"Some of the credit should go to you, don't you think?"

He shrugged. "They do better than I could ever teach them." 

Thranduil scoffed, but in a good-natured sort of tone. Bard chuckled and eased back in his seat as they settled to watch the rest of the entrants. 

"I did not think you'd take my advice to heart, Thranduil."

Bard looked up and saw a dark-haired man dressed in Wranglers, Ropers, and a smart coat. He was smiling, the expression settling somewhere between amused and pleasant. 

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "It was a good idea. This open class is much more entertaining than I thought it would be." 

The man chuckled. He turned to Bard. "I'm Elrond, I run---"

"Rivendell Stables," Bard finished. He knew the man by sight and reputation, though they'd never met formally; Elrond Lúthien trained students in both english and western disciplines, and they did quite well in the shows they entered. He smiled. "I'm Bard." 

"I know. You're the hire Maxwell Esgaroth had bragged about."

Bard winced slightly. "I don't know about that."

Elrond smiled. "Well, I do. You have a reputation of being a good teacher. Your children's success only adds to it." He, as Legolas had done, dropped to a crouch in front of Tilda. "And who might you be?" 

"Tilda." 

His smile stretched. "Are you showing this weekend, too?" he asked. 

She shook her head. "Nope. Still too little."

"Do you like trail like your brother and sister?" 

"Sometimes," Tilda replied. She smiled. "I wanna learn to jump, too. It looks like flying!" 

He grinned. "It does, doesn't it?" he agreed. "I always thought reining was a little like that, too. Spinning so fast and those sliding stops."

Tilda's face lit up. "Do you do reining like my da?"

Elrond shook his head. "No, it was never a specialty of mine. But I do enjoy watching it." He paused and smiled again. "May I sit next to you?"

"Sure!" she chirped. 

Elrond smiled at Bard as he rose to his feet. He took the seat next to Tilda and sighed contentedly. 

"How many are left?" the newcomer asked. 

"Seven? No, six," Bard replied. "It's a bigger trail class than usual."

Elrond nodded. "Nice to see."

"Do you have anyone competing in it?"

Elrond shook his head. "I thought one of my students would change his mind, but he decided not to come." He shrugged. "It's difficult when the shows are during the school year." 

Bard nodded. "I had students that couldn't make it either." 

"What are your off-season plans?" he asked. 

Bard shrugged. "Lessons. Training. The usual." 

Elrond nodded. "Will Maxwell have any foals this year?"

"He purchased a couple weanlings at a sale a few weeks ago," Bard admitted. "We'll start preparing for spring's lunge line futurities."

The brunet smiled. "Tis the season."

"Something like that." Bard smiled. He reached over and ruffled his daughter's hair. "We'll get this one riding a bit more this winter, too."

"Really, Da?"

"I don't see why not," he replied. "You're getting taller and stronger. We should start. We can talk about it when we get home, okay?"

Tilda grinned and nodded. 

Bard looked at Elrond. "You have plans for the off-season?"

"Training and breeding," Elrond replied. 

Bard turned his head and looked at Thranduil. "Guess you're doing much of the same?"

"Probably," Thranduil told him. "Legolas does a lot of our training now, but there are always lessons to teach. Horses to sell, horses to buy... the usual." 

"I'm hoping to convince him to come visit for a week or two, get away and relax, but he's resistant," Elrond commented. 

Bard smiled at Thranduil. "Don't like to relax?"

Legolas snorted. Thranduil nudged his son's side. He turned to Bard. "I relax plenty," he said, eliciting a snort from Elrond, too. "I just prefer to do it away from meddling friends and family."

Bard grinned. "I dunno. Time away with family can be good." 

"Yes, father," Legolas teased. "Time away with family---"

"Oh, knock it off," Thranduil muttered. Legolas laughed. He turned back to Bard. "They always think they know what's best for me."

"Sounds like family," Bard agreed, smiling.

"Sigrid says if we weren't looking out for Da, he'd be lost in the hay fields," Tilda said with a little smile. 

Bard laughed. "Yes, she's probably right about that," he agreed. He looked at the blond man on his right. "It's much easier if you just give in," he added teasingly. "Besides, how bad could a few days away be?"

"You have no idea."

From Bard's other side, Elrond chuckled. 

"Drama queen," the brunet said quietly.

Thranduil leaned forward in his chair and glared at Elrond. Bard snorted. He didn't know them well at all, but their antics were amusing. Like old friends, the kind with too much history and no need for excuses, they seemed to know exactly how to get on each other's nerves. 

But, they also seemed to know how to hurt each other. 

A quick study of Thranduil's face and his tightened features made something in Bard's gut tighten. He suspected it wasn't a big deal, but he still felt his need to protect rise up; he wanted to get between the two men more than physically. 

"Oh, hey," he interrupted. He looked at Thranduil. "I meant to ask... how did your students' hunt seat classes this morning go?" 

Thranduil's brow furrowed for a moment. Then he smiled a bit. "Well enough. One win, two seconds."

"That's great," Bard replied. "Were the patterns difficult?"

"No more than usual," Thranduil replied. 

Legolas leaned forward. "They were fairly simple. Walk to the first marker, trot a ninety-metre circle, canter to last marker. Stop and back up."

"That's not too bad," Bard agreed. He smiled at Legolas. "Did you compete?"

He shook his head. "I gave up my amateur status last year." 

"I'm sorry---"

"Don't be," Legolas interrupted. "I don't regret it. I like training, and the competition is challenging again." 

Bard smiled. "Can be exciting at first," he said. "I remember missing horsemanship a bit, though."

Legolas shrugged and smiled. "So far, I'm enjoying the change."

"Good." 

Bard leaned back in his seat. He caught Thranduil watching him, and felt his face heat up a bit under the blond's scrutiny. He smiled; Thranduil smiled a little back. 

Before he could say anything, the announcer spoke up to declare the end of the open trail competition and to start sharing the results with the audience. 

Bard's eyes widened and he leaned forward again. Tilda stood up, bouncing excitedly, and he pulled her close as they waited. 

Balin placed fourth. 

Bain placed second. 

Sigrid won the class. 

Bard had been cheering on his feet when Bain was announced as the second place winner. When Sigrid's name was announced minutes later, he felt himself stagger for a minute before recovering and cheering again. 

"Da!" 

He scooped Tilda up and kissed her cheek. "Let's go find them. I think we should go get burgers and fries to celebrate," he declared. He turned to the men that had joined them. "Sorry, I've got to go and---"

"Absolutely," Thranduil replied. He smiled. "Congratulations." 

"Maybe we'll run into each other again." 

Thranduil nodded. "I'd like that."

Elrond smiled and waved. "Nice to meet you, Bard."

"Bye," Legolas said with a wave of his own. "And, Miss Tilda, I hope you'll come watch me compete tonight."

She nodded. "I'll be there!"

He smiled. "Great. I need my good luck charm." 

Tilda grinned and waved at Legolas before Bard took her out of the seating area. 

They found Sigrid and Bain outside, dismounting their horses away from the main arena traffic. He put Tilda on the ground and she hurried over to her older brother and sister. 

"Well, well," Bard said, grinning broadly. "Congratulations to both of you," he said once he was closer. He hugged them carefully, mindful of hats and belt buckles. "God, you did great. I can't... I'm so impressed."

"Thanks, Dad," Bain said in reply. 

Sigrid grinned and held up the sealed envelope. "Thanks, Dad." 

"Well, what did you get?" he asked. 

Bain opened his first. He blinked in surprise. "Three hundred and fifty-seven dollars and twenty-two cents," he whispered. "Whoa." 

"Hey, that's great!" Bard exclaimed. "Lots of fun to have with that." 

Bain nodded. 

"Don't decide right away," he advised. "You can cash it as soon as we get to an ATM, but wait until you know what you want to do with it." 

Bain nodded again. 

Bard turned to Sigrid. "And what did you get, love?" 

She opened the envelope and gasped. "Four hundred and fifty-four dollars and some change," she whispered. "Wow."

"You are spending that on nothing but fun," he told her. "I know you're going to want to put some towards the show fees, but I'm not accepting any of it." 

"Dad..."

"I'm not accepting money from either of you," he said firmly. He grinned. "Now, let's get these two back in their stalls. Horsemanship's gonna be in a couple of hours, but I want celebratory burgers with my kids first."

Sigrid grinned. "My treat." 

Bard shook his head. "Nope." 

"Dad!" 

"No deal," he insisted. "I'm buying, or we starve." 

Sigrid groaned. "Daaaad." 

Bard smiled. "You spend that on selfish things that make you happy."

"What if I buy something for Tilda?"

"As long as you get something for you, too, then that's fine."

"What if I buy something for you, too?"

"It has to be under twenty bucks," he stipulated. "And is not today's burgers," he added. 

He took Jane's reins from her daughter and sated off towards the stables. Bain followed with Thor. Tilda and Sigrid followed them. Bard could hear Tilda chatting excitedly about the class---and about meeting Legolas. 

"You are a good luck charm," Sigrid told her little sister.

Bard smiled. He looked over at his son. "You did great, Bain," he said quietly. "You took your time, you looked so calm and sure... you got Thor through the obstacles cleanly... you did really well." 

Bain smiled back and nodded. "Tomorrow, I might ask what I did wrong, but not today." 

Bard grinned. "Sure, we can talk about it tomorrow." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trail is a western class, where a horse and rider team negotiate obstacles that should simulate obstacles one might encounter if on a real trail ride. (You have to use your imagination for some of them.) I do not have a video reference for this pattern of obstacles because it's loosely based off of an open trail challenge I competed in _ages_ ago. It was at a show where there were multiple breed associations and the show staff had loosened up quite a bit on the regulations (there are rules for each breed/show group about the standards of the obstacles (height, materials, etc.)), so it wasn't something you'd usually see. I used some of the obstacles from that for this fictional open trail competition. However, if you're interested in seeing what a trail class can look like, here are some AQHA examples: [1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HIJj86-RPXk), [2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Rz3VrKfIb4), and [3](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dw1ouzAavgA) 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard completes his last go in the reining challenge. He and Thanduil talk while waiting for his score. They learn more about each other.

After his second round in the open reining class, Bard left the arena with a score of seventy-two and five tenths. He dismounted and leaned against the railing of the warm-up ring. 

"And that's that, pal," he mumbled as he untied his tie and pulled it free. He stuffed the square of fabric into his jeans. "Nothing we can do but wait." 

"Talking to yourself?"

Bard turned and saw Thranduil walking up to him. He smiled at the sight of the man. 

"Well, to Thor, really," he replied honestly. "But since he doesn't really talk back... yeah, I guess so." 

Thranduil smiled. "Sigrid said you'd be out here," he said, changing the subject. "I wanted to come out and congratulate you on another good ride." 

Bard shrugged. "It was okay. Thor's getting tired, but we did our best." 

Thranduil settled against the boards of the ring's fencing on Bard's left side. "You have a really hard time accepting compliments," he said, smiling. "I will make it my personal mission to break you of that bad habit."

The reiner laughed. "Yeah? How are you going to do that?" 

"If I tell you, you'll be able to resist. My methods will be more effective if you don't see them coming."

Bard laughed again. "Something to look forward to, then." 

"I hope so," the blond commented quietly. He handed over a card. "I wrote my cell phone number on the back. For when Tilda's ready for jumping lessons. Or anything, really." 

"Oh. I... thanks."

Thranduil shrugged as his ears and cheeks turned pink. "We're planning on leaving as soon as we can tomorrow, and I didn't want to forget in case we rush out of here without saying good-bye," he explained quietly. 

Bard gave him a little smile. He took in the almost nervous, but definitely uncertain, expression on Thranduil's face and felt the need to want to reassure him somehow. 

"And if I want to text just to say hi, that'd be okay?" he asked, dealing with a little nervousness of his own. 

Thranduil smiled. "That would be alright, yes." 

The announcer's voice was muffled by distance, but both men heard her read off the most recent entrant's score. Bard sighed; Thranduil smiled more. 

"You're still in the lead." 

Bard chuckled. "You're keeping track of my scores?"

"It's two numbers. Hardly difficult." The taller man turned. "How are you not keeping track?"

"I rode well. I'm pleased. The rest is just... the rest." 

Thranduil rolled his eyes. Bard nudged him. "What?" he asked. "The results to me are a good ride. I don't need more than that."

"How are you for real?" Thranduil asked. "You are having the kind of week a lot of trainers would love to have, and you're giving me 'aww shucks, I'm just having fun?'"

Bard tipped his head back and let loose a deep belly laugh. When it faded away, he was still grinning. 

"I just have different priorities," he said with a shrug. 

"Oh good grief," Thranduil muttered. 

Bard chuckled. "Sorry, it's just who I am."

"It never stops!" Thranduil exclaimed, a smile tugging at his lips. 

"More bad habits to break me of, I guess," Bard joked. "You're going to have your work cut out for you." 

The blond looked into his eyes. "You'll find I'm up to the challenge."

Bard was about to say something, but a wince crossed Thranduil's face and he stumbled. He didn't fall; he was able to catch himself by grabbing the fence. 

"Hey," Bard said quietly. He reached out and cupped the other man's elbow in one of his hands. "You okay?"

Thranduil nodded. "I... yes," he said as he regained his bearings. "Sorry about that."

"You have nothing to apologise for," Bard said, still in a quiet voice. He squeezed Thranduil's arm once before releasing him. "Old injury?"

Thranduil's face flushed and he looked away. "Something like that," he mumbled. 

Bard wondered if the old injury was the reason he wasn't showing (or riding, as Bard suspected he wasn't spending much time at all in the saddle based on pieces of conversation they'd had) but he didn't push for more information. The caregiver in him wanted to offer comfort; he wasn't sure if a hug would be too forward, though, so he hung back. 

"I get it," he said in what he hoped was a sympathetic tone. "After my accident... between all the hardware in my body and the rehab... well, it was tough. I still have bad days, too."

Thranduil frowned. "A riding accident?"

"Car," Bard replied. He sighed. "It was five years ago. My wife..." he trailed off and sighed again. "Anyway, there are bad days, physically and emotionally."

"She died?" Thranduil asked. When Bard nodded, it was his turn to have his arm squeezed. "Bard, I'm sorry. I---"

"It's alright," the dark-haired reiner interrupted. "You didn't know. And anyway, I only brought it up because I wanted you to know I understand bad pain." 

"Thank you for sharing that with me," Thranduil murmured. 

The announcer's muffled voice declared the next entrant had a score of seventy points. 

"Are you going to tell me I'm still in the lead?" 

"Are you going to give me more of that 'aww shucks' routine?" 

Bard chuckled. "Probably."

Thranduil smiled. "Two more entrants to go," he said quietly. 

"Do you need help getting to a seat or---"

"It's fine," Thranduil assured him. "The muscles cramp if I'm not careful." 

"Well---"

"Really. I usually pay better attention and rest when my leg feels tired," he explained, "but I haven't been resting much. I just have to be careful." 

Bard nodded. "Alright. If you're sure." He shrugged. "I don't like the idea of... well, if you fall and hurt yourself, I wouldn't---I don't want you to get hurt." 

Thranduil exhaled slowly. He smiled. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I will be fine, though." 

"If you're sure."

The blond nodded. "I am."

"Can you walk with me to the entryway?" Bard asked. "Or should I look for Legolas or El---"

"No. And especially not Elrond."

"You guys seem close."

Thranduil nodded. "We are, but I do not want him to see me in pain again." 

"Well, I can understand that. How can I help?" 

"Let's walk slowly. I am sure I can make it, but if I stumble---"

Bard interjected: "Grab me."

"Bard---"

"I'm serious," he said, cutting in again. "We'll go slow and if you think you're going down or you need a minute, you grab me."

Thranduil frowned. "This is not how I wanted to make an impression."

Bard blinked, surprised by his words. He recovered quickly, though, deciding to put his musings about Sigrid's perceptions aside, and he smiled. 

"I won't hold it against you," he said. "C'mon. I don't want to leave you over here." 

Thranduil nodded. 

Together, they made their way from outside the warm-up ring to outside the main arena. Thranduil never stumbled, something for which Bard was grateful, but he did wince a couple of times. Bard wished he could do more, but wasn't sure what that more would entail. He also wasn't sure why he felt compelled to help; he suspected it was his caregiver instincts combined with the desire to foster a new friendship, but he didn't know for certain. 

Once they were by the gate, Thranduil leaned against a nearby railing. 

"Still hurts?" Bard asked quietly. 

"Muscle cramps."

"Can you stretch it out?" 

Thranduil smiled. "Not without taking on some fairly interesting poses," he replied. "I'm fine. You need to start focusing on getting ready to accept your prize." 

"Don't count my chickens." 

"There's one more entry! So far you have the best combined score."

Bard smiled. "You're doing more math than you've been letting on."

"Oh, yes, simple addition of pairs of numbers," Thranduil said with a roll of his eyes. "So taxing."

The reiner chuckled. "Well, thanks for keeping track."

A flash of reddish hair caught Bard's attention, but it was the way Thranduil frowned that spurred him into action. He stepped between the young woman and Thranduil; he didn't take a defensive stance, but he made sure he was between them. 

"Bard, it's alright," the other man said quietly. 

"You sure?"

"She works for me."

Bard frowned. He turned to look at Thranduil. The other man's cheeks were slightly flushed and he had a slightly dazed look in his eyes. He hadn't looked like that before; Bard worried that his pain had increased. 

"You shouldn't have to deal with work right now, if you're hurting."

"She knows. It's fine." He murmured. "You have to go in soon," he added. 

Bard nodded. He turned and offered the young woman a sheepish smile as he stepped back. 

"Sorry about that," he said quietly. 

She smiled and nodded. Thranduil cleared his throat. "Tauriel? What is it?" 

"I don't usually see you out this late," she replied. "I wondered if there was anything I can do."

"I'm experiencing a bit of pain," he told her. "Mr. Bowman is concerned, but I'm attempting to reassure him I'm used to it."

Tauriel smiled at Bard. "Thanks for watching out for him," she said sincerely. She turned back to Thranduil. "Should I get your cane?"

He shook his head. "No, it will pass. I'd like to stay out here until the placings are announced, then perhaps you could discretely find my son."

She nodded. "Yes, sir." 

Bard watched her turn on her heel and head into the main arena. 

"She's our head rider," Thranduil explained. "She took over many of my training duties after my fall."

"A fall?" 

Thranduil nodded. "Wasn't my most coordinated landing," he admitted quietly. "I ended up being dragged for a while. It did a lot of damage." 

"You don't have to---"

"I want to explain."

Bard nodded. "Thanks for telling me," he said quietly. "I'm sorry it happened."

"Don't be. It's a risk we all run, doing what we do," Thranduil reminded him. "But, thank you for the sentiment." He straightened his shoulders and motioned towards the arena. "You should be getting ready to go in. They'll be ready soon." 

Bard smiled. "Alright," he agreed. He looked up into Thranduil's face. "Thanks for keeping me company."

"I wasn't completely altruistic," the blond admitted with a smirk. "Anyway," he continued, giving himself a little shake, "congratulations and enjoy your winnings. I'll see you later or---"

"Or I'll text." 

Thranduil grinned. "I look forward to it." 

"Have a good night," Bard said. He shifted his weight and prepared to lead Thor to the gate. "And I hope you feel better soon." 

Thranduil's smile stretched a bit more. "A hot bath, some stretching, and I'll be fine again." 

Bard waved and walked away from the english rider and towards his reining colleagues. 

"Deciding to join us, then?"

He turned and saw Thorin Oakenshield---one of the more successful multi-discipline trainers in Erebor---watching him with something like a scowl in his features. He was standing with one of his senior students, someone who had competed in the two-round reining event. 

Bard was reminded of Thranduil's comment during the trail class, vague but expressing displeasure at dealing with some of Balin's family, and suspected the dark expression on Thorin's face had something to do with the same displeasure (but from the other side). Trying his best at feigning ignorance, he put on a small smile and shrugged. 

"Looked like it was about time," he replied. He glanced at Thorin's student---someone he knew to be fairly new at showing---and smiled a little more. "Did okay, then?"

The golden-haired man nodded and smiled. "Seventy and a seventy-one," he replied. 

"Good job," Bard commented. 

The announcer called for all of them to ride into the ring, so Bard quickly put his reins around Thor's neck and climbed up into the saddle. Thor flicked his tail but otherwise remained still while Bard put his reins in the proper position in the proper hand. 

He nudged his calves against Thor's sides and followed the group into the ring. 

The judge was standing by the announcer's booth, with the ring steward. After the man in the headset gathered up the ribbons and envelopes, the judge followed him to the middle of the rings 

"We will only be announcing the top eight platings, though the judge thanks everyone for their participation in the Edoras Reining Challenge," the announcer's voice declared over the loudspeaker system. The judge nodded his head and looked at the group of competitors. 

Bard looked down the line. There were twelve. Four reiners would not be receiving prizes. 

"In eighth place, ring number one-oh-two, Peregrin Took and Krymsum Topsail Spark, with a combined score of one-thirty-five-point-five.

"In seventh place, ring number two-thirty-one, Éowyn Medulsel and Skippa Shiny Chic. They have a combined score of one-thirty-nine." 

Both riders urged their horses forward and claimed their prizes from the ring steward. The audience cheered. 

"In sixth place, ring number one-oh-four, Samwise Gamgee on Dun and Back, with a combined score of one-forty-point-five.

"In fifth place, ring number three-eleven. That's Fili Durinson and A Wimpy King Too and they have a combined score of one-forty-one.

"In fourth place, we've got ring number one-oh-five: Rosalyn Cotton on Zippy Chic Slide, with a combined score of one-forty-two-point-five."

Bard watched the next three riders move forward in the order they were announced. They took their prizes and started moving towards the exit as the audience applauded their wins. 

"In third place, ring number three-ten, Hollywood Heavy Axe with Dain Ironfoot riding. They have a combined score of one-forty-four.

"In second place, ring number three-one-three, Bofur Moriasvic and Son of Heimdall, with a combined score of one-forty-four-point-five."

Bard saluted both men as they rode past. Their friends and colleagues cheered loudly from the stands. 

"And in first place, ring number two-twenty-three, Bard Bowman and Thor's Flashy Hammer with a combined score of one-forty-six."

The announcer started thanking the class' sponsors---large local businesses---but Bard tuned them all out as he urged Thor into a slow jog towards the ring steward and judge. He tipped his head in the direction of the judge, an older man who gave him a little smile in response, before accepting his prize from the ring steward. 

His children were cheering the loudest, but there were others he recognised near them. Legolas and Tauriel were sitting in the row behind his children with a few other english riders; the two he'd met we're grinning and clapping enthusiastically and the others were following their lead. Elrond and Gandalf were standing near the seats and they, too, were part of the loud applause. Balin, who'd been with Thorin and the others from Erebor, was also cheering for him. 

He waved to his kids, nodded to the group, and slowly loped out of the arena. 

"Well, pal, how about we retire now?" he joked under his breath. 

He eased Thor to a walk and looked around. He could hear his children coming out of the arena; he turned to see them and caught sight of Thranduil standing by the fence. The blond man gave him a thumbs-up signal and grinned. Bard grinned back. He wanted to approach him, but his children burst out of the arena and he was distracted by their appearance, full of smiles and support. 

When he dismounted and looked for Thranduil, he saw Legolas and Tauriel walking him towards the parked trucks. He wasn't sure why he felt a little disappointed, but he didn't have time to reflect on it because he was soon wrapped up in hugs from his kids before they swept him off to the stables. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I've been swamped with work and distracted by another story (Owen Shaw/Thranduil). Am trying to get back on track!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the show. Bard and his children head home. Bard and Thranduil take the first step to staying in touch over the off-season.

Overall, it had been a great show, but it came to an end in tired faces and heavy limbs all the same. After their last class, Bain and Sigrid helped their father all-but-throw everything into the truck and trailer, while Tilda snoozed in the backseat of the truck cab, and then they worked as quickly as they could to wrap Thor's and Jane's legs so they could load them before too much time passed.

Bard was not looking forward to driving through the night. He knew that he'd have to stop at least once to take a nap; he hoped to be able to put as much distance as possible between them and Edoras, though, before he had to pull over to rest. 

He hitched the trailer and drove it to the stable. Bain was already there with Thor; they were able to load him without trouble, within minutes. Bain went back to the stall to clean it out, and that was when Sigrid appeared with Jane. 

"I'm almost done with her stall," she told him. 

Bard nodded and took the leadline from her. "I'll load her. Go and finish," he suggested. 

She nodded. He took Jane into the trailer, tied her, and went back to secure the back strap and ramp. Then, he hopped into the driver's seat to check his phone---for the weather reports---and his youngest daughter. 

Tilda was curled up on the bench seat behind him. Her face was a title flushed, her eyelids were fluttering, her lips were curved in a sleepy smile. Bard smiled as he watched her sleep. 

He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and tucked it in one of the dash compartments. A card escaped and landed by the pedals. 

He picked it up. It was Thranduil's card, for his farm, Eryn Lasgalen, with his cellular number on the back. 

On an impulse, he unlocked his phone's screen and went to his text messages. He quickly typed one to the number he'd been given. 

_Hope you're home---or almost there. Was nice to meet you._

He sent that one line. Then, he realised he probably should have included his name. With a silent curse, he quickly sent another message. 

_It's Bard, by the way._

He set his phone in the compartment with his wallet, slid out of the truck, and went to find his children---but they were already heading to the manure heap with their full wheelbarrows. 

"Done?" he asked. 

Sigrid nodded. 

He smiled. "Great. Let's get this show on the road." 

When they were heading toward him without the wheelbarrows, he said, "I figure we can stop for food around nine or ten, if you guys can make it that long."

Bain nodded. "Shouldn't be a problem." 

Bard smiled, put an arm around his son's shoulders, and tugged him into his body a bit. "You did really good," he told him. "I'm proud of you."

"Daaad."

"It's important."

Bain smiled a bit. Hs ears turned pink. "I know," he said quietly. "Thanks." 

Bard pressed a kiss to the top of his son's head---much to Bain's public displeasure---and then released him. He looked at his daughter, who was checking their gear in the trailer's front compartment. 

"We have everything. We checked," he reminded her. 

"Just double checking," she murmured. 

He hugged her from the side and kissed her cheek. "C'mon. Get in the truck." 

"Aye aye, capitaine," she joked. 

Bard got back into the driver's seat as Sigrid climbed into the front passenger's seat. Bain had gotten into the back with Tilda and was already putting on his headphones. Bard guessed he'd be asleep within minutes. 

A beep from the centre dash compartment drew Sigrid's attention. She grabbed his phone and studied the screen. 

"What is it?" he asked. 

"Text message from a number I don't recognise." 

He took it from her and looked at it. 

_You're just leaving, I take it. Drive safely. Stop if you have to. Let me know when you get home._

Bard smiled and unlocked the screen to reply. 

_I will. Thanks._

He put the phone back and put on his seatbelt. Sigrid was still looking at him. He glanced at her. 

"What?"

"Your new friend?"

Bard snorted. "I guess so. Yes."

She smiled. "It's nice that he seems to care about you," she commented. "Don't forget to text him when we get home. He might be a worrier." 

"Takes one to know one, huh?" he teased. 

She stuck her tongue out at him. He chuckled. 

Sigrid stayed awake for a few hours to keep him company. They talked about the show---a deconstruction of everything she'd done and where she will need to improve over the winter months to do better in the next show season---and about school, until she was yawning and drifting. 

Bard reached out and squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "Sleep," he murmured. "I'll wake you up when we stop for food."

"Mmm, thanks, Dad." 

He smiled and turned on the radio, keeping the volume low. He tuned it to a mostly-talk station, so the conversations would engage his brain (hopefully) and keep him alert. 

An hour later, though, he knew if he did not stop, he'd have trouble staying on the road. 

He took the first exit he came across that advertised chain fast food restaurants that would be open late. He parked the truck and trailer in the back of the first restaurant he found. 

"Hey, guys?" he said quietly. 

Bain roused first. "Dad?"

"I stopped. They should still be open," he said, craning his neck and looking at the building. The lights were on, a few people were milling around inside. "Yeah, looks like it. I need to sleep," he continued. "But, if you guys can go inside and eat---"

"Mmmkay," Sigrid breathed around a yawn as she, too, came to awareness. "Tilda?"

Bard's youngest made a sleepy, whiny noise. 

"Leave her if she wants to sleep," Bard suggested. "Maybe grab her a milkshake on your way out if you can."

"And for you?"

Bard shrugged. "Maybe a milkshake for me, too," he said. He handed her his wallet. "It's fine. I'm more sleepy than hungry." 

Sigrid made a face to show her disapproval but nodded. She gave it one more try to wake Tilda up, failed, and then followed her brother out of the truck and into the restaurant. 

Bard rubbed a hand over his face and then eased the seat back so it was reclining a bit. He pulled a baseball cap off of the dash and threw it on; with a little tug on the brim, his face was covered, sheltered from the harsh lights of the parking lot. 

He sighed and closed his eyes. He was asleep within seconds. 

His sleep was deep, dreamless, and longer than he'd expected. When he came back to awareness, the first thing he noticed was the smell of food. The second thing he noticed was that Sigrid and Bain were back in the cab. 

"How long have I been sleeping?" he mumbled as he tossed the baseball cap back towards the bottom of the windshield. 

He rubbed a hand over his face and yawned. 

Sigrid handed him a cup of hot coffee. "Start with this," she advised. "I bought you a sandwich and some fries, too. They're still warm." 

"And we have a couple bottles of water," Bain added quietly. 

Bard craned his neck to look at Bain and Tilda. The latter was sucking happily on a straw that seemed to be in a strawberry milkshake, judging by the pink colour in her takeaway cup; the former was licking an ice cream cone. 

"You were out for a little over an hour," Sigrid said. She smiled. "You needed the rest." 

Bard groaned. "You should've---"

"Let you rest," she finished. "We're fine. I checked the horses, gave them more hay. They seem alright." She smiled a bit. "Next year, I'll have my license and can help with the driving. It won't be so hard for you." 

"It's not---"

"Dad." 

He sighed. "Well, it's a little difficult after five days of showing," he reluctantly admitted. "But, it's doable." 

"And next year, it'll be even more doable," she insisted. 

Bard smiled and nodded. After a few mouthfuls of coffee, he started the truck. He didn't pull out of park, though; he drank his coffee and checked his phone for messages and road reports. There was a message from Alfrid, inquiring as to when he is planning on returning to Esgaroth Farms; with a sigh, he typed out the time, his location, and the distance remaining into a reply message. 

"Not your new friend?"

"Alfrid," Bard told Sigrid. 

She frowned. "Lovely. I hope you told him you won't be riding first thing." 

"I didn't, but I won't ride if I'm too tired," he assured her. 

"Dad..." 

Bard smiled at his oldest child. "Stop worrying about me." 

"Impossible," she insisted. 

"How about I take a nap before---"

She cut him off. "We're taking the day off of school. You should take the day off work." 

Bard shrugged. He put his coffee in the cup holder and the truck in gear; he started driving towards the exit to the parking lot. "Depends on if Braga'll be by to feed the horses and turn some of them out," he reminded her. He tried not to sigh, but he did anyway. "His schedule has always seemed rather flexible to me," he added, mostly under his breath. 

"Non-existent, you mean," Sigrid muttered. 

Bard snorted. "Don't say that at home... but, yeah."

Sigrid sighed. "There are good things about home, but---"

"Focus on the good, love," he advised. He guided the truck and trailer out onto the road again, in the direction of the exit to the highway. "The rest doesn't matter so much." 

"Well it does if---"

He shook his head. "It doesn't."

Sigrid huffed. Instead of continuing to express her point of view on the situation, she picked up the bag of food and said, "Eat."

"Yes, ma'am."

He took the bag from her one-handed and fished out a few fries. He hummed appreciatively, not realising how hungry he'd been, and continued to eat the fries a few at a time. By the time their were gone, it was time to shift gears to speed up and join the highway. 

Sigrid helped by unwrapping half of his sandwich; she held it for him to grab as he drove. 

They all shared in brief bits of conversation, the children feeling a bit more alert after eating, and Bard was glad for the company. Driving at night was never easy, but not being alone made it easier to bear. 

The relief did not last forever. One by one, his children fell asleep again. Once Bain had lastly succumbed, Bard turned the radio on again and reached for his remaining coffee. 

He drove until the sky was just barely beginning to lighten. Dawn was still a ways off, but it was closer than it had been at the beginning of their journey home.

The familiar gates to Esgaroth Farms were a welcome sight. All they had to do was park and unload; the rest could be dealt with after some sleep. On the other side of the trip, his words to Sigrid about continuing to work through the day seemed like a flight of fancy. He was _exhausted_. 

"We're home, kids," he said quietly, once the truck was parked off to the side of the barn, close to a set of less frequently-used doors. 

Sigrid woke first. He smiled at her. "Take Tilda home, both of you tuck in for a nap. No more than five hours," he instructed. "I'll get Bain to help me unload the horses. We'll all do tack and stuff later." 

She looked like she wanted to argue---about her not helping him unload the horses, he suspected---but she still nodded in agreement. 

"Okay. Don't forget your phone." She smiled a bit. "And your friend." 

He refrained from rolling his eyes. He wasn't sure how he felt about his daughter pushing him to have a social (or romantic, if she had her way) life. He knew she meant well, though, so he just nodded and made a mental note to grab his phone on his way back to the house. 

"Bain?" Bard said quietly. "C'mon, son. Time to get up. We're here." 

Bain woke up grumpily. Bard sympathised, but he still prodded his son until he slid out of the truck and made his way to the trailer. He needed the help. 

It didn't take long before the horses were in their stalls, fed and watered, and then Bain gathered up the wraps while Bard wrote a message for Alfrid and Braga (which indicated the time of their arrival and that he would not be making an appearance until noon). 

Bain walked home with the wraps, but Bard drove the truck and trailer so it could be parked closer to their small home and away from the stables until they could take their personal gear from it. He made sure he had his phone in his pocket and that the truck and trailer were locked securely and then he followed his son into the house. 

A quick check of the kitchen showed that Sigrid had taken the frozen chili out and left it in the sink. It would melt more easily there, Bard reasoned. He set the timer on the coffee machine and grabbed a glass of water. 

On his way through the small house, he noted that Tilda and Sigrid were in bed, asleep, and that Bain was getting ready to go to his own. 

He went to his room and closed the door. After setting the water glass on his bedside table, he pulled out his phone and typed out a quick text. 

_Made it, safe and sound._

He put his phone down. After drawing the blinds closed, he started undressing. First his jeans, then his socks, then his shirts. Everything was left in a pile on the floor. 

His phone buzzed as he sat on his bed. 

_I'm glad. I hope you don't have to work today._  

_Sigrid convinced me to play hooky for a little while,_ Bard replied. 

_Good. At least one of you has some sense. Get some sleep._

Bard nodded slightly, stopping himself when he realised no one could see his gesture. 

_Already in bed. Or on it, anyway._

He grabbed the duvet and fell back, pulling the covers up over him as he settled into a comfortable resting position. 

_Good. Sweet dreams, cowboy._

Bard smiled. He sent a quick reply of thanks and set the alarm on his phone for four hours from the current time. As he closed his eyes, he wondered why Thranduil was awake at such an early hour. He wanted to ask, but sleep was pulling at the edges of his mind and he knew his question would have to wait. 

He and his children had had a successful show. They'd managed the trip there and back without any difficulties. Their horses were safe and sound. He had a (flimsy) reason to contact the trainer from Mirkwood again. 

And it was finally time to sleep. 

Bard drifted off, feeling both exhausted and content, a small smile playing upon his lips. 

The end!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this! I have more planned for this universe, it's just a matter of how long it will take me to write it all out. In fact, the second story is almost finished, so i should be posting that in the near future. 
> 
> Hopefully, for any horsey people, it wasn't too simplified or wrong to read (it's been a while since I've been in a saddle (or show ring), and while some things are still like muscle memory, some things have gotten fuzzy with time). Hopefully, for any non-horsey people, it wasn't too detailed or difficult to understand.  For those who made it to the end, thank you (again) and I hope you read the next installation whenever I get it finished and posted :) 


End file.
